


Degrees of Intersection

by muse_in_absentia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_in_absentia/pseuds/muse_in_absentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes two people who are a little broken coming together, not to heal, but to understand that being broken is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Degrees of Intersection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2015 RS_Games](http://rs-games.livejournal.com/profile) with the prompt:  
>  _"Heavy hearts, like heavy clouds in the sky, are best relieved by the letting of a little water." ~ Christopher Morely_
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to my lovely beta phiso-kun for all the help, and also [little_werewolf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/little_werewolf/pseuds/little_werewolf) for all the hand holding and moral support when I got stuck and wanted to throw the whole thing out.

The air was heavy with imminent rain as Remus stepped off the double-decker packed with tourists, trying to simultaneously check his battered watch through its cracked face, tuck a bookmark into his novel and not trip off the curb. He swore under his breath when he saw that it was five minutes till two. _Just what I need,_ he thought bitterly, picking up his pace to a slow jog. _These appointments are too expensive for me to be late._

A fat raindrop splattered onto his glasses and he growled, tearing them off his face and tucking them into the breast-pocket of his olive green dress shirt. It was a favorite of his, despite the fraying cuffs and collar, and he wore it any time he suspected a bad day. The poor shirt had been seeing a lot of use lately.

There was a horn honking somewhere behind him, but he ignored it as he jogged up the block and into the crosswalk, the brick building that housed the office of his latest counselor looming like an impatient vulture just ahead. Remus didn’t hear the car approaching behind him until he felt the gust of air as it passed by, nearly clipping him. A quick sprint to get out of the way and he tripped on the curb, dropping his book into a puddle and jarring his left arm hard. He sat there, stunned for a few minutes before climbing gingerly to his feet. The knees of his corduroys were soaked through and muddy. His arm had gone numb.

Sighing, he scooped up his battered, bruised and now damp book and continued trudging up to his appointment.

He was buzzed in as soon as he rang the bell. The counselor, James Potter, didn’t seem to have a secretary, and Remus suspected that he had the door wired to open any time the bell was rung. 

Letting himself into the waiting room, Remus was struck, as he always was, with the sensation that this office was meant to be a home not a workplace. The waiting room had walls that were somewhere between cream and golden, a worn oriental rug trying to cover the standard issue beige carpeting and two threadbare, but extremely comfortable, couches in brilliant scarlet. Mismatched end tables held an eclectic pile of old magazines that looked like they had been pilfered from various other businesses all around the city. It was a strangely fitting combination of comfortable and slightly overbearing, much like James himself.

There was a small desk with a computer set up near the door that led back to the actual office that looked like it should house a receptionist, but Remus had never seen anyone use it. In fact, he had never seen anyone else in the waiting room, or coming out of the office, for that matter.

Remus had barely settled in on one of the couches when the office opened and James came out, smiling.

“Remus, come on back.”

Remus stood slowly, his bruised knees complaining. He grimaced slightly, clutching his sodden book.

Little lines formed between James’ hazel eyes and he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“What happened to you, mate?”

That was part of what Remus liked about James. He always acted like they were friends, and seemed as though he meant it. Of all the counselors, psychiatrists and doctors of various flavors he had been to James was the only one who didn’t treat him like another statistic. He wasn’t a fascinating case study, he wasn’t a boring run of the mill crazy; he was a real live person who just happened to interact with the world at an angle. That was okay here. Sometimes James was a bit angular, too.

Remus shrugged and eased himself into the squishy purple armchair that faced the red recliner that James preferred. “A driver in a bit of a hurry thought it was more important to get through where I was standing than wait the thirty seconds till I finished crossing.”

Black eyebrows shot up to join a messy hairline. “Are you all right?”

Rubbing at his arm, which he still couldn’t properly feel, Remus nodded. “Fine. He didn’t hit me or anything. I just tripped getting out of the way.” He paused and frowned. “A bit irritated, though. He could hurt someone.”

James leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. No notes for James. Remus suspected that he recorded all the sessions so he could make notations later without having to interrupt any conversations that may take place. “He could have hurt _you._ ”

Long fingers plucked at a stray thread barely holding the button on to the cuff of his shirt. _Going to have to replace that button soon_ , Remus thought idly, only half listening to James. “I suppose. I hadn’t really thought about that part. He didn’t.”

Blinking a few times James opened his mouth then closed it twice, trying to find the exact number of degrees to intersect him. James, for all that he seemed to be a good person, was not, as a general rule, a very good mathematician. 

“So how is Killian?”

_Nice segue there, James,_ Remus thought, dryly. “He’s fine. Working a lot, we don’t see much of each other these days.”

“He works over at the hospital, right?”

Remus nodded.

Finally, James sighed, scrubbing his hand through his messy hair, making it stand on end. “Remus, I know you don’t particularly want to be here. I mean, the first thing you said to me was ‘I’m only here because the boss said it was this or an extended forced vacation.’ I can’t make you talk to me, but what makes you think just showing up will be enough to keep you your job?”

A small growl escaped Remus and he bit his lip, hard, until he was sure he wouldn’t snap at James. “What makes you so sure that I care about keeping a job that thinks this is the only way I’m worth something?”

The other man just smiled faintly and settled back in his chair, even pulling the lever to put his feet up. “Because you wouldn’t be here at all if you didn’t.”

Remus had never wanted to hit another person quite so much.

“That’s the most animated I have ever seen you over the past few months that we’ve been meeting. It really bothers you to be here, doesn’t it?”

A handful of calming breaths later and Remus still wanted to hit him, but maybe not quite as hard. “It would bother anyone who knows it’s a waste of time and money.”

“I’m on retainer, Remus, you aren’t paying.”

“It’s the principal of the matter. My mother sent me to my first psychologist when I was three because she thought I didn’t talk enough for a kid. I was quiet, so I must be broken. She’s never really gotten over that idea, either. I’ve been in and out of places like this on and off ever since. If it actually worked people wouldn’t keep telling me that I’m still living my life wrong and making me come back. Or maybe, if there were actually something wrong with me, it would be working.”

James frowned. “I don’t think that anyone is trying to tell you you’re living your life wrong, or that there’s something wrong with you.” He paused. “Well, honestly I can’t say that, I haven’t met most of the people in your life. If they are, they have their own issues, though. But I have met your boss, and I’m sure that’s not what he’s trying to tell you. He’s worried. You were one of his best editors and then suddenly you just sort of stopped working. Manuscripts were returned late, with rather blatant errors. You insist that nothing brought it on. So unless you suddenly had an attack of the lazies you have to be lying.”

“So nice to know that my boss likes to gossip.”

“Remus, he’s just worried. If you had simply burnt yourself out I think everyone would be okay with that, but I don’t think that’s the case. You know that Albus has me on retainer because he’s concerned that one day one of his editors will come across a manuscript with content that they can’t handle. I believe he just wants to make sure you aren’t bottling something you shouldn’t have to handle alone.”

“I don’t really need him to worry about me. He has dozens of employees, a business to run, and his own life.” Remus ran his thumbnail down the side of his book, scratching against the raw edges of the paper and making a small rasping noise.

“It’s not really a matter of what you want. People worry about other people. That’s a normal thing.”

“James, no offense, since you are by far the nicest head inspector I’ve seen to date, but cut the shite. You don’t do sincere well. Hell, you might even mean what you said, but you’re no good at delivering the message, which is utter bollocks anyway. I had a few bad nights of sleep, let my productivity slip and now everyone thinks I’m falling apart. I’m fine. If my downstairs neighbors would stop having really noisy sex at all hours of the night I wouldn’t be here wasting your time and mine.”

“Ouch,” James chuckled, letting Remus redirect the conversation to something he was more comfortable talking about. “I remember when my university flat-mate used to bring home blokes to shag. That does ruin a good night’s sleep, doesn’t it?” He paused and frowned. "That was probably not appropriate given the situation, sorry."

"I started it," Remus shrugged. “It doesn't bother me that this is a little less than professional." He grinned, sharp and sudden. "Besides, if Killian ever stopped working overnights, or at least had a couple nights off in a row, I’d return the favor.”

James squeezed his eyes shut briefly, going a bit green. “Remus, mate, I know you’re here to talk, and it’s great that you’re finally putting together whole sentences, but I really _really_ don’t need to think about you shagging, thanks.”

“In that case, I’ll assume that means you don’t want the details of what he gave me for my birthday.”

The small squeak that James emitted made Remus chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your delicate sensibilities with details of gay sex.”

With a groan James just dropped his head into his hands with a muttered, "Please don't, I'd rather not hear about _anyone's_ sex life, thank you," that made Remus chuckle even while surreptitiously checking the clock.

*****

Remus was sitting on the front stoop of his third floor walkup, a cigarette dangling from his lip when he was surprised by the irritated voice of his lover.

“Remus, haven’t we had this conversation?”

Taking the time for another long drag before he looked up, Remus met Killian’s narrowed blue eyes, shrugging. _And hello to you, too, Killian. How was your day? Mine was just lovely._ Idly, Remus wondered if it was a bad sign when even his thoughts were sarcastic. “Been a long day,” was what he actually said out loud.

“I’ve had a long day, too, but you don’t see me taking up disgusting habits.” Killian reached down and pulled the cigarette from between his fingers, throwing it to the ground and snuffing it beneath the heel of his high priced loafers. “A long day doesn’t give you the right to destroy your lungs like that. You know I hate when you smoke.”

Remus was fairly sure that Killian hated that he hadn’t beaten Remus into submission about it yet more than the actual smoking. A lot of people he spent time with at the hospital smoked.

A small boy was chasing after a scruffy mutt of a dog that had slipped his leash across the street. Remus watched as the dog kept eluding the boy, barking happily, thinking it was a game. The cement of the stoop was digging into his thighs and if he had been alone he would have gotten up and gone inside, but with Killian staring down at him like an errant child he felt the need to stand, or rather sit, his ground.

“Well?” The arch tone and implied reprimand made Remus’ skin crawl.

_I am not a pet!_ He wanted to scream. Instead, he sighed, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “They’re my lungs. I’m not asking you to smoke. Hell, I don’t even smoke around you. It was a long day and I had a cigarette. One.”

“Proving once again that you don’t care about me at all. Willing to risk killing yourself without a single thought to what that might do to me.” The toes of one of Killian’s shoes was tapping. 

_Too much caffeine again._ “Well, then you wouldn’t have to deal with the smoking anymore,” Remus shrugged.

“Don’t take that tone with me. I get yelled at by patients all day, I don’t need it when I come home, too. At least I get paid to deal with them, unlike dealing with you.”

Remus, who wasn’t aware that he had taken any tone, didn’t reply. He could tell that Killian was itching for an excuse to use him to blow off some steam.

The back of his neck prickled as Killian stared down at him through blue slits, but Remus just continued to watch as the little boy, finally having caught his dog, clipped the leash back on and proceeded to march the poor animal up and down the block. Sometimes Remus felt like he wasn’t allowed out of his mother’s sight, either.

“I mean, honestly, this old blighter today starts screaming at me that I’m trying to poison him when I tried to give him the shots that _he authorized_ yesterday. Threw his bedpan at me and everything.” 

_And what gives you the right to come home and take it out on me?_ When Remus didn’t respond, knowing better than to say that out loud, Killian frowned, his foot still tapping. 

“And that was just how the day began. Don’t get my started on the girl who took an entire bottle of aspirin and then insisted she didn’t need to be admitted, fighting and screaming. Clawed my arm up. It’s bad enough these selfish little bastards pull shite like this for attention, but do they then have to give you a hard time when they actually _get_ the attention?”

Remus fought the urge to tug at his sleeves, biting his lip to keep from giving Killian the satisfaction of replying to that. He knew when he was being goaded into an argument and he had no desire to be used as Killian’s verbal punching bag. And this rant was nothing new so a lot of the sting had gone out of it. 

The first time Killian had tried out this particular argument Remus had been appalled. Sparking back with all the indignation he couldn’t contain about how completely unacceptable comments like that were, they had screamed at each other for hours and then not spoken for three days. The next time they didn’t speak for four. Now it was such an old argument, and Remus didn’t have the energy to play his part anymore.

“Is that why you’re home so early?”

Killian frowned when Remus wouldn’t take the bait, but shook his head and sat down next to him, although they weren’t touching. “Got called in to work a double tonight. Doc. Pomfrey is out with bronchitis and they need me to cover. Got the rest of the afternoon off to get a little sleep in between shifts.” He started drumming his fingers on the step and Remus wanted to reach out and forcefully still the rapid beat, but he didn’t. “I just wish they would understand that eventually, if they’re going to keep having me cover for doctors that have better privileges and pay, they’re going to have to compensate me better. I’m not doing charity work.”

The sound of Killian rambling on about how overworked he was washed over Remus, who was itching for another cigarette. At first he had felt bad about not listening to these long rambling speeches, but eventually when he realized that he could pretty much recite them, he stopped caring. Killian needed the chance to vent, and would find a way to get it, and as long as Remus sat there and didn’t interrupt that was as much as either one of them needed from the other. He sat there and picked at the loose thread on his cuff button, twirling it between his fingers.

“Why don’t you let me replace that shirt for you, it’s falling apart?” Killian asked, frowning at the frayed cuff.

“I like this shirt,” Remus shrugged.

“It looks terrible on you. That is just not a good color for you at all.”

Remus didn’t answer and Killian sighed, sounding extremely put upon. “Look, I know it’s just because you can’t afford a new one. I’ll just replace it and you can tack it onto what you already owe me. What’s a few more dollars?”

With a sigh Remus stood up and held out his hand, ignoring the last dig. “Come on, let’s go in. I’ll make you some tea before you go to bed.”

Ignoring the offered hand Killian stood, and together they walked up to their flat in silence, the only sound the creaking of the old steps. After a brief battle with the key and the sticky lock Remus opened the door to the smell of coffee lingering from that morning. He went directly to the kitchen to put on the kettle, pausing only long enough to toe off his shoes. The kitchen was so small he could practically touch the opposing whitewashed walls at the same time and the hum of the refrigerator seemed especially loud in the tiny space.

Killian dropped himself directly onto the sagging navy blue sofa and kicked his feet up. “Could you bring me one of the pumpernickel bagels when you come back?” Killian called, his voice muffled by the pale khaki colored throw pillow he had covered his face with when he had sprawled out. 

Remus, who had the tea kettle in one hand and the jug they used to keep water cold, which needed to be refilled from breakfast that morning, in the other, blinked around the doorway at his lover who couldn’t see him. “Of course,” he drawled, rolling his eyes at his full hands. “Anything else?”

“You could maybe toast it, first.” It didn’t really sound like a request.

After a brief pause Remus sighed. “Sure.” After setting the kettle on the stove and putting the water jug back into the refrigerator Remus pulled out the bag of slightly stale bagels and the serrated knife. Briefly he contemplated if the knife was sharp enough to slice his wrists properly. After only a moment he gave the idea up as opening a vein with a doctor in the next room, even a junior one, would just land him talking to far less understanding people than James Potter. Besides, the manuscript he was editing was due in three days and if he wasn’t around to finish it the work would fall on Fabian Prewett, and the poor man was overworked as it was. He didn’t deserve to have to finish Remus’ work as well. With one last glance at the blade he flipped the knife around in his hand and sliced the bagel in half, popping it in the toaster.

*****

An angry beeping had Remus trying to pry his eyes open far earlier than he wanted. Blinking fuzzily at the bedside clock he expected it to read 2:30AM rather than the 7:30AM it actually said. Swatting in the general direction of the alarm he managed to connect with the side of the clock with his heavy hand, which only caused the alarm to make a sound like a swarm of thousands of angry bees.

Great, he thought, closing his eyes again and pulling the mottled-blue comforter up to his chin. _Although, at least if I die from bee stings I won’t have to go to work this morning. I wonder if I can call in because of electrical bees._

Eventually the alarm clock gave up the will and stopped beeping. Remus hadn’t moved, the effort of pulling himself out of bed was simply more energy than his sleep deprived body could handle. There was a dull ache pulsing through him as if he were hung over or had a mild flu, both of which he knew to be not true, so he simply rolled over and curled up into a small ball on his side.

It had taken most of the night for him to fall asleep, instead staring out of the window by the headboard and watching the dim outlines of constellations that he could barely make out past the city lights. Some nights he missed his parent’s old farm where the only light for miles was the lantern that was always lit in the barn because without it the old milk cow bellowed at all hours of the night. When he had trouble sleeping he often wished he could count the starts the way he had as a kid, but London was just too crowded, too bright. Instead, he stared at the inky blackness that wasn’t nearly as black as he remembered, and imagined all the stars he could.

When he had finally passed out it was as if someone had thrown a switch. He was simply unconscious until his alarm went off, leaving him feeling more like he had blinked for an extended period of time rather than actually sleeping any. The idea of forcing himself out of bed was nearly physically painful.

He was still there twenty minutes later when the front door slammed shut. The clock was flashing 7:53AM and he frowned. Killian wasn’t supposed to be home for another six hours. The familiar clattering of loafers being kicked off and juice being pulled out of the fridge, however, told Remus as clearly as hearing his voice that Killian was home early.

The bedroom door creaked open and Killian froze halfway through the door. “What are you doing still here, Remus?”

_Wishing I could sleep in peace._ “Overslept,” he mumbled, trying to bury his face in his pillow.

“Well, get your lazy arse up, work isn’t optional.” With that Killian stormed back out of the bedroom and Remus could hear the groan of the sofa cushions as Killian flung himself across them.

He lay there for another couple of minutes before finally sitting up, trying to stretch out the deep muscle ache that he couldn’t seem to shake. A pair of grey linen trousers found their way onto his legs seemingly without much help from his hands and he pulled on his thickest cable-knit jumper despite the fact that it was late May. It was the closest thing to bringing a comforter with him he could manage.

Creeping out of the bedroom in search of his shoes, and to see if there was any coffee left in the pot from when Killian left for work, he spotted Killian curled up, once again, on the sofa. Remus couldn’t remember the last time they had both slept at the same time, or in the same place. These conflicting work schedules were killing them.

Well worn, and scuffed, shoes somehow ended up on his feet, and Remus groaned to himself as he spotted the patch that had faded nearly thin enough to see through. _Probably time for a new pair,_ he thought idly, frowning in Killian’s direction.

“Will you be home tonight? I might be persuaded to make a real dinner.” Killian just grunted. “Should I leave you the car?” Remus tried. Killian grunted a little more forcefully and shook his head. Taking that to mean that he planned on sleeping the rest of the day, or that he was tired of Remus talking at him, it was hard to tell the difference, Remus grabbed the keys and shuffled out of the apartment.

He trudged a couple of blocks to where his ancient Volkswagen Golf was parked and unlocked the door, only fighting with the sticky handle for a moment. Killian had been taking the car to work lately because the tube didn’t run at the strange hours he had been working, and it was nice, for a change, to get to take his own car to work. Sliding the seat back so the steering wheel wasn’t digging into his ribs he popped the clutch in and turned the engine over, only needing two tries, just to find that the tank was nearly empty.

_What, couldn’t find a petrol station even once this week?_

A quick check of his wallet told him that without a trip to the bank that he didn’t have time for he could either feed his car or feed himself. Of course, it was too late to catch the bus and still make it to work on time, so the car it was. After a brief detour which only filled his tank a little less than halfway, he drove the few kilometers to work, parked, and stared up at the small building.

It was only when Marlene McKinnon rapped on his window, smiling and waving, that he finally pried himself out of the car, walking into the crowded editing offices with her.

She greeted him with, “I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a flat?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s just that Dorcas found this beautiful little cottage, and she needs a roommate, but if I split the rent with her it will cost me less than half of what my flat is currently costing me, and for more space, but my lease isn’t up until November, and-“

“I don’t, Mar, but I’ll keep my ears open,” he cut her off before she could get into a full blown ramble. He was suspect as to the real reason she wanted to move in with Dorcas, but if she didn’t want to say anything he wasn’t going to pry.

She gave him a quick hug and a grin in thanks before breaking off to her own desk. Sighing, he chuckled humorlessly, waving at the Prewett twins and Peter Pettigrew as he passed by on his way to his desk, sitting down and logging onto his tired and clunky computer to try and actually focus on the drivel that was being called a novel that he was supposed to be editing. _When did writing this bad actually warrant a real look?_ He mused as he groaned and began typing up comments.

Not having any real need to take a lunch break after putting the last of his cash into getting there Remus just put his head down and gave all the attention he could manage to his work. The first time he looked at the clock, stretching with a loud pop from his back, it was nearly time to leave. Blinking, he rubbed at his eyes and looked at the clock again, not believing how long had passed without his noticing. He did, however, allow himself a small smile as he sent the now completely edited manuscript off to his boss, two days early, with a little snide note that said: _I don’t know how things like this make it past the front door._

Remus was just packing up to leave when Albus Dumbledore stopped by his desk, blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. “Ah, Remus, I’m glad to see you’re a bit more yourself today.”

Allowing himself a small snort, Remus gave him a wry little smile. “Sorry about that, Sir, I hadn’t been sleeping very well.”

“Not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry. I actually have a favor to ask of you.”

_Of course you do, and I don't have it in me to say no._ “What can I do for you, Sir?”

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head a little. “You don’t need to call me Sir, Remus, no one else does.” Remus just shrugged, so Dumbledore continued, still shaking his head. “I have a new manuscript that I’d like you to take a look at.”

One eyebrow arched up and Remus cocked his head at his boss. “That’s not really a favor so much as doing my job, Sir.”

Chuckling, Dumbledore clapped Remus on the shoulder. “Not entirely. It was written by a young man that I knew quite well in his schoolboy days.”

“When you were still teaching?” Remus asked shrewdly. A nod confirmed the worst of Remus’ fears. _Okay, maybe this will be a favor,_ he thought, tiredly. “What should I be expecting?” he asked, trying not to let his wariness show through.

“I have no idea, my dear boy. He always was a bit of a character. Brilliant in his own way, but a bit on the erratic side. I promised him when he was my student that if he ever managed to finish the manuscript he was always carrying around with him that I would look it over for him. I, however, didn’t foresee it taking him nearly twenty years to complete.”

Remus actually snorted at that. This was either going to be a masterpiece or a complete waste of his time. “So, which direction does this favor go, Sir? Am I to give it a real honest critique, or do you want me to do whatever it takes to make it palatable?”

Dumbledore twinkled at him. “You see the problem with my giving this to just anyone, my boy. I trust that you will be honest about the work and not pander to my fondness for its author.”

After an internal sigh of relief Remus smiled. “Of course, Sir.” He suddenly found himself with a handful of manuscript. Startled, he frowned. “Hard copy?”

“It may be safer to write comments that cannot be deleted,” Dumbledore said, still twinkling and smiling like this was all some grand joke that only he understood. Some days Remus was fairly sure it all was.

“If you say so, Sir,” he shrugged and tucked the manuscript into a manila folder. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well, my boy, you as well.”

*****

When Remus parked his car, which stalled out as he pulled up to the curb, and walked the couple of blocks to his apartment it was still nearly an hour and a half earlier than he usually got home. Not having to take the bus severely cut down his travel time.

There was a bit of a breeze, but it was pleasantly warm and he was pondering the best way to talk Killian into talking a walk down to the pub for dinner rather than having to go shopping as he unlocked the door. At first he thought Killian must have gone out, because he wasn’t in his usual place sprawled out on the sofa, but then he heard the groan from the bedroom. Then another, longer one.

It didn’t take much to figure out what was going on, why Killian had been so distant lately, always in such a hurry to make sure Remus made it to work, working such long hours himself. If he could have predicted this moment Remus would have expected to be hurt, angry, but instead he felt nothing. Maybe those things would come when he remembered how to breathe, but for right that moment he couldn’t feel his feet as they propelled him to the half-closed bedroom door and froze, just out of sight.

Remus stopped, hands shaking, as he leaned around the door slowly, quietly.

“Bloody fuck, Geoffrey, nng, it’s been too long,” Killian groaned.

The blood drained from Remus’ face leaving him lightheaded as he saw the long line of Killian’s back stretched out across their bed, two sets of hips moving in sync. He vaguely remembered being introduced to a Geoffrey, some sort of med-tech, the last time he had brought Killian food because he had been asked to work a surprise double shift. If it was the same bloke at least Killian had the good taste to cheat on him with someone rather fit.

A strangled sort of sob bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it down to churn in the pit of his stomach, knuckles white on the doorframe. With a shaking hand he pushed the door all the way open, allowing the squeak of old hinges to announce his presence for him.

There was much swearing and a loud crash as both men scrambled to cover themselves, glaring at the door.

“Remus, what the fuck are you doing home?” Killian gasped, clutching the duvet up to his chest, one bare knee poking out the side.

With a quick eyebrow arched in the direction of the Geoffrey, Remus shook his head at Killian. “It takes a lot less time to get home from work when you let me have my car,” he said, his voice flat as he walked into the room and around the bed. “Don’t mind me, I won’t be here long,” he continued, grabbing a small duffle bag and throwing in some clothes as well as the book he had left on his nightstand. “Oh, but Killian?”

Killian didn’t reply, just glared at him sullenly, as if he were the one in the wrong.

“I do expect that when I come back for my things that you will have washed my comforter.”

Leaden feet carried him out of the room towards the living room where he took the afghan his mother had made him years ago from the back of the sofa and stuffed it into the small bag before trudging back out the door.

“Maybe if you weren’t always so bloody distant I wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere!” was shouted after him, but he paid it no mind.

_Always need to have the last word, don’t you? See how long your new toy puts up with it, because three years is bloody long enough for me,_ Remus thought bitterly, as he plodded towards his car.

It was just starting to get dark out as he slid behind the wheel and starting the engine. Without the money to let a room for the night he angled the car into traffic and headed towards the outskirts of the city. He watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon, reflecting back a myriad of moods as the colors slowly melted into each other; vibrant fading into pastel, fading into dim and finally fading away. Still he drove, until the lights of the city were no longer even a flicker in his rearview mirror. Finally, when he could see nothing but his headlights and vast acres of trees he pulled the car over and slid into the back seat. Covered in his mother’s afghan he curled up in the backseat of his car and counted the stars until he fell asleep, not having to imagine them for the first time in many years.

Remus didn’t sleep for long, though, jolting awake in the pitch black. Groaning he flicked on the dome light and checked his watch. 5:37AM meant that he had a little over an hour before he had to start driving back into London for work. The tinny ping of rain just starting to hit the roof of the car, however, was not something he was going to be able to fall asleep to, and the last thing he wanted to do was sit in the backseat of the car he had just slept in and dwell on how he had gotten there.

Sighing, he flipped open his bag and pulled out the manuscript Dumbledore had given him the day before. It took a little digging to find a pen and a notepad. Switching off the dome light so as not to drain the car battery, Remus unclipped the little battery operated book-light that was still attached to the book he had grabbed. He used to use it so he wouldn’t wake Killian, but now he was glad he had it with him.

_The first time Owen Barringer ever saw the stars was the same day that he met Avery Wolfe. He was eighteen with a chip on his shoulder the exact shape and size of the scar his mother’s signet ring had left on his right cheekbone when he was twelve._

_He had stormed out of his family home in their small town just before breakfast, not even bothering to stop long enough to grab a jacket against the impending storms, which he was regretting now. But not enough to go back._

_Hastily, he scrambled throughout the town that he had never once been outside of. It was a small town, from everything he had read. Certainly nothing like the big city. Of course, with the curfew that had been active for at least three generations no one had been outside the town to give an accurate comparison. No horse could make it to the city before dark._

_For the first hour he was looking for a bolt hole where his mother wouldn't find for him. The second hour saw him realize that she wasn't trying to._

_Now, huddled under a dripping willow tree just on the edge of the Torringly farm at the outskirts of town, drenched and shivering he still had his face upturned to the skies defying the rain to break him. The clap of thunder overhead made him jump, but it was the soft chuckle from behind him that caused him to let out an undignified squeaking sound._

_Owen spun around, but there was no one there. Clambering to his feet he braced his back against the rough bark, sodden earth clinging to his fraying trousers as he stood, dark eyes darting around nervously._

_“Who’s there?” he hissed, wishing that he had thought to take his boot knife before he stormed out of the house. Wishing that he had thought to take anything at all._

_A young man not any older than he was himself stepped around from behind the tree that Owen was pressed against, hands held out wide in reassurance. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he grinned, and Owen felt some small measure of tension slide from his shoulders with the raindrops. “Avery Wolfe,” he continued, offering a hand._

_Callouses scraped against Owen’s palm and he suppressed a shiver, instead focusing on Avery’s admittedly endearingly crooked smile and the sopping auburn curls that flopped into his disconcertingly black eyes._

_“And you are Owen Barringer.”_

_Owen pulled his hand back, suddenly wary. Avery just chuckled and leaned beside him against the willow tree, pulling out a battered tin of hand rolled cigarettes. He managed to light one despite the rain, his long fingers flicking the spent match into a puddle. “It’s no great trick. Everyone knows who you are.”_

The grey light of morning was attempting to break through the clouds with minimal success. Remus yawned and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. Working in the back of a Golf wasn’t really any better on the neck than sleeping in the back of one.

After a quick look around to make sure he was alone he crawled out of the car and stripped of his rumpled jumper, replacing it with a dark blue button-down, tugging the sleeves low over the ropy white scars that crisscrossed his wrists. Once he was sure he was as put together as he could be without the use of a shower he headed to work.

It wasn’t until he was pulling into the parking lot, watching Marlene trudge towards the door, that he remembered their conversation from the day before. Scrambling out of the car he jogged across the parking lot until he caught up with her.

“Hey, Mar, is that flat still available?”

Her face lit up, light brown eyes sparkling. “Did you find someone looking for someplace?”

Remus shrugged, not wanting to sound desperate. “That depends on the particulars, but there has been some interest. When would it be available?”

She linked her arm through his and swung open the door to the building. The sound of printers and computer keys all jumbled together to form a sort of office variety white noise that Remus found oddly soothing. “I could be out by this weekend.”

Only two more days of sleeping in the car. And maybe he could manage to swing by his own flat while Killian was at work and use the shower at least once so he didn’t start to look derelict. “I could work with that,” he said quietly.

Marlene froze up. “You need a flat? Did something happen with Killian?”

Remus didn’t answer.

“All right, I won’t pry, but if you want someone to talk to we’ll go get drinks after work someday.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mar.”

She sighed and ran a hand through her blonde bob. “Let me talk to Dorcas. If I can get Prewett-dee and Prewett-dum to help haul some boxes I might be able to be out by tomorrow. The only thing is that I can’t actually get out of my lease, so you’ll have to pay me and I’ll pay the landlord. Don’t worry, though, he’s never stopped by. He lives up in Leeds and I wire him the money every month, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Remus just nodded, then gratitude overwhelmed his reserve and he hugged Marlene briefly. “Thank you,” he said quietly, mumbling into her hair.

*****

It had taken only two trips in his tiny car and nearly two weeks for Remus to set the tiny flat up so that he was comfortable. He had had to buy all his furniture second hand, but the place was finally starting to look less sparse and more like someone actually lived there. That was after three days of sleeping on the floor without the energy to do anything to settle in, regretting that he woke up every single morning.

The mattress was the only thing he had bought new, unable to bring himself to sleep on someone else’s used mattress. _Of course, who knows how long I had been doing that without knowing it,_ he thought bitterly as he relished the quiet of a Saturday morning still curled up in bed, blankets pulled up to his chin.

A quick glance at the clock told him that still had at least three hours until his appointment with James. That was more than enough time for a leisurely shower, a small breakfast, and maybe even a little work. Since moving he hadn’t had the chance to look at the manuscript he had been given by Dumbledore, and he was starting to feel a little remiss. But not so much so that he could bring himself to climb out of his warm bed and do something about it.

An hour of dozing later he finally pried himself from beneath the covers and flung himself into the shower, turning the water as hot as he could tolerate and just standing there for a few minutes, steaming his thoughts clean as well as his body.

It was only after he had managed to stuff himself into some clothes, and was sitting down with some toast that he remembered the brief conversation from the night before. James had called and asked if they could move their appointment up an hour, which Remus, not having any plans, agreed to. Glancing at the clock Remus realized he would just have enough time to make it if he hurried.

_So much for putting in some time on that manuscript._

He made a mad dash for his car and drove the handful of miles to James Potter’s office. After circling the block twice he managed to, miraculously, find parking, and he jogged up to the building only to stop short. Slouched against the brick façade was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. High cheekbones over a strong jaw and wicked mouth, inky hair that was just a shade too long for respectable, storm cloud eyes and the tightest pair of denims Remus had ever seen, and suddenly Remus could taste his pulse.

_Get a grip, Remus,_ he berated himself. _He’s probably just another patient of James’. Nothing to get worked up over._ His heartbeat was decidedly unconvinced, but he managed to school his face into something that at least felt neutral as he walked up to the building to ring the bell.

“Don’t bother,” the other man muttered as Remus reached for the button. “Git’s running late this morning. No one’s in there.”

_Of course, even his voice is perfect._ Remus groaned and slumped against the side of the building, reaching into his pocket for a smoke. If he was going to have to stand out here with the embodiment of perfection not two weeks after finding out about that Killian had been shagging someone else he definitely deserved a smoke. Or three.

Pulling the pack out of his trousers pocket Remus flicked it open only to find it empty. “Well, bugger,” he grumbled, crushing the pack and stuffing it back into his pocket.

A moment later a lit cigarette appeared in front of his face. He stared at it for a moment before the fingers holding it flipped it around deftly and placed the filter against his lips. After a long drag he cocked his eyebrow at the other man, who smirked at him as he took a drag himself.

“Can’t let gorgeous strangers go without their vices,” he shrugged, offering the cigarette to Remus again. Remus choked on the lungful he had just drawn, and his strange companion chuckled a little. “Sirius, by the way,” he added, holding out a hand.

Trying very hard not to notice just how soft Sirius’ hands were, Remus let go quickly, just shy of abruptly. He felt his cheeks warm at the way Sirius’ fingers lingered as he let go. It had been a very long time since anyone had flirted with him. He wasn’t sure he remembered how this worked. But, he realized suddenly, he wanted to remember. Things he had long ago buried while with Killian were bubbling to the surface, and even if it was just for this moment, with this man who he would probably never see again, he wanted to remember how it all worked.

There was no misconception of it meaning anything, no fear that this beautiful stranger could actually want anything with him. He hadn’t even been able to keep Killian’s attention. Which meant that it was harmless, and exactly what he needed in that moment. A brief moment to be worth something, even temporarily, in someone else’s eyes.

“Remus,” he answered, voice far less shaky than he expected from the roiling of his insides.

“Well, Remus, what’s a perfectly charming bloke like yourself doing in a place like this?”

“Don’t even think about it, Black!”

Remus startled, looking up to see James Potter glaring at his companion in a way that was decidedly threatening.

Glancing sidelong at Sirius, Remus found that he seemed completely nonplussed, but rather was grinning widely at James.

“Oh come off it, James. I was just chatting up this lovely bloke that you abandoned, relegated to the realm of joining myself in being wall art at your dump of a building while your sorry arse took its sweet time getting here.”

Remus snickered and James shot him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher. “Don’t encourage him, Remus, or he’ll be completely insufferable.” Turning back to Sirius, James frowned, unlocking the door to the office and letting them all inside the lobby. “And you’re an hour early, Black.”

Sirius shrugged. “You’re usually just sitting back there reading up on the latest football stats. I thought we’d get an early start. How was I supposed to know you’d actually have someone here?”

“Maybe because I told you to come by at noon when I finished with my _last appointment,_ ” James growled through gritted teeth.

With a huff Sirius flung himself into the chair behind the computer at the small desk by James’ office. He flapped a hand in the direction of the back room and grinned. “Well, go on then. I can keep myself entertained.”

James groaned. “Just no more gay porn. _Please!_ The last time you used my computer it took me a week and professional help to remove all the bloody viruses you managed to accrue.”

Sirius flashed them both a downright devious grin. “You dangle a beautiful specimen like that in front of me and then tell me I can’t even do anything to relieve the tension? I make no promises, James, mate. None at all.”

With a resigned sigh James held the door open to the back office, following Remus through. “I’m sorry about that pillock,” he muttered, glaring at the closed door.

Remus, who had watched the whole exchange with the sort of detached amusement usually reserved for bad movies, shrugged and settled into his usual seat.

“I’d ask how you’ve been, but honestly, anyone would be a little rattled after the over the top flirting of that git. I just hope Killian won’t be too upset about the whole thing.”

Wincing, Remus curled his arms around himself a little. He hadn't had an appointment since it happened, so he knew that James couldn’t know, and that he meant well, but how could he explain that being flirted with, even jokingly, by a beautiful man was probably the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He probably wasn’t ready for more, not this soon, and he was quite sure now that Sirius hadn’t meant it anyway. Even more certain than he had been to begin with. But it was refreshing, none the less, to have someone pay him that kind of attention.

Instead, he shrugged, staring at his own hands in his lap. “Somehow, I don’t much care what Killian would think on the matter. Catching him with another man’s cock up his arse doesn’t leave him much moral high ground.”  
James slouched a little in his chair, his cheeks turning red beneath his mop of messy hair. “Fuck, Remus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ He trailed off and glanced down at Remus' arms, looking almost like he didn't even realize he was doing it until it was too late. 

Remus snorted, and curled his arms across his chest. "You don't have to worry about that, James. I was seventeen." 

Behind his thick glasses James flinched slightly, but he held Remus' gaze anyway. "And you never think about it anymore?" 

Without an ounce of hesitation Remus looked James right in the eye and lied to a man he was starting to consider a friend. "Not at all." 

James sighed and frowned, but glanced away. "I really am sorry about Killian. Do you-" 

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus cut him off. He took a deep breath and fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. After a long, awkward moment he glanced up, caught and released James’ eye. “I’m somewhere between devastated and relieved, truthfully. If I’m honest with myself we may have loved each other once, but we’ve sort of been quietly detesting each other from the same bed for quite some time now. And on the plus side, at least I’m not upstairs from those noisy neighbors anymore. I haven’t gotten this much sleep in years.”

*****

_Owen wasn’t sure what made him follow Avery into the mountains. Something about the way this boy he had just met not an hour ago spoke was soothing, calm, drastically different than anything Owen was used to. The way he couldn’t keep his curls out of his eyes wasn’t helping the matter, either. He was man enough to admit that to himself, even if he wasn’t man enough to throw it in his mother’s face just yet._

_The trail was overgrown with moss, and dead branches fallen from towering trees littered the way. Owen picked a careful path through the detritus, his boots squelching in the mud. If his mother could see him now he wouldn’t have any skin remaining on his back when she was done with him. That thought made him smile as he kept a careful watch on the slender back a few feet in front of him. It wouldn’t do to get lost out here._

_It only took about a half hour of hard hiking before Avery stopped short, Owen nearly running into him._

_“What is it? Is something wrong?” he whispered, trying to peer around his companion. Something about this place seemed to demand hushed reverence, and while Owen felt a little silly about it, he decided that was preferable to feeling crass. So he whispered._

_Avery turned around and flashed him that crooked grin again, before stepping aside to let Owen through._

_They had come to a large clearing and Owen felt the air leave his lungs as he looked around. There was a small gurgling creek meandering off to their left, and the entire glade was run riot in blues and purples from the veritable sea of wildflowers. Owen saw fairy ivy, and dogsear, and braided foxslip as well as many varieties he couldn’t identify. As he looked closer, Owen realized that the creek disappeared down a steep drop into a gorge in the distance._

_Avery ghosted past him, their arms just brushing, stopping at the water’s edge. “This is my favorite place to come when I’m having a bad day,” Avery said quietly, not looking up as Owen sidled in next to him._

_There were a lot of things Owen could have said to that. “It’s beautiful.” or “Why did you share this with me?” or “I want to stay here with you, in this place, until the flowers are gone, the leaves have fallen and no one remembers my name.” not the least of them._

_He didn’t say any of those things. Instead, he laid a gentle hand on Avery’s shoulder and waited until the other boy had turned to look at him, all hesitant eyes and shaky breath. “Thank you,” was all he said._

_The smile that lit Avery’s face said he understood, but he shrugged, feigning nonchalance anyway. “You looked like you were having a bad day.”_

Remus rubbed at his eyes. A quick glance at the clock told him that he should have been asleep hours ago. 

When he had left work he hadn’t really wanted to stop mid chapter. Sometimes, when he really got into the flow of a story, stopping at the wrong time could set him back hours of work as he had to refresh himself on everything he had said, the changes he thought were warranted, all the little details that slipped out of the fissures in his concentration when he took a break. With nothing to keep him busy alone in his tiny flat he decided to look for a more natural stopping point than that dictated by the work day. He must have gotten caught up.

After a quick wash of his teeth he stripped down to his boxers and stumbled to bed, curling up deep within a nest of blankets. The little window that he had made sure to position his bed directly under was open just a crack to let in the night air, and the drip of a light rain was soothing. Remus tried to focus on that to slow his brain down for sleeping, but he was fidgety. It felt a little like his skin was too tight.

With a sigh that perched precariously between relief and resignation he slid his hand into his pants in the hopes of at least stilling his churning thoughts.

It started out innocuous enough, thoughts of generic hands, mouths. Faceless, empty figures that left him feeling just as empty. As his hand moved, mechanical and stilted, half-forgotten dreams of touching, being touched, flitted into his consciousness, coloring those empty fantasies. He startled, stopped momentarily, as he realized that the no longer faceless man he was imagining looked suspiciously like the bloke he had shared a smoke with almost a week earlier. He had nearly forgotten the encounter, but apparently nearly was a far cry from completely.

His guilt at wanking to the thought of some bloke he had met while waiting for his appointment with James was overshadowed by the surge of want that spiked through him as his traitorous mind focused in sharply on the tiniest detail he could remember. 

He wondered if those hands, so deft with a cigarette, would be just as agile touching him. If those gleaming eyes would darken for him. If that mouth would taste as sweet as it looked, would fit around him just so. That image pulled a small, breathless whimper from his throat, as he pictured the other man - Sirius, that was his name - dropping to his knees. Then he changed his mind and backtracked quickly, instead imagining himself pressed hard into the brick wall they had shared a smoke against.

It didn't take long for him to finish. The fact that he and Killian hadn't touched in months adding to his frustration and lack of control and it was over nearly before it began.

Allowing his breathing to settle back down to normal, Remus wiped his hand on his already soiled boxers then quickly stripped them off and dropped them over the side of the bed. A quiet sort of lassitude settled over him, even as part of his brain panicked that he should probably not ever let James find out that he had just wanked over some bloke he met at his office. It didn't matter that James had no way of finding out without Remus explicitly telling him, the discomfort of the situation had settled in and it was slowly overpowering common sense. 

He had never allowed himself this sort of free reign in his fantasy life. He had never really wanted it. There had never been a time when a stranger had inspired this sort of desire in him. 

_All these months sleeping alone must have really taken their toll,_ he thought bitterly, even as he curled tightly on his side, his eyes finally heavy. And then, _I wonder if I'll ever see him again?_

*****

Remus was staring blankly at the manuscript in front of him, his pen laying still across the top of it. Most of the morning had been spent trying to poor enough coffee into his body to stay awake and functional, and most of the afternoon had been spent on dwelling on the reason he hadn’t slept well the night before. He was still mortified that he had allowed himself to take such liberties, even in his own thoughts, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret it.

A glance at his empty coffee mug and he sighed and leveraged himself out of his chair, which had molded to his body while he sat there unmoving, pretending the manuscript before him would edit itself. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was simply too enticing in his exhausted state, and he went in search of his fourth cup of the day.

“Remus,” Marlene called, sidling up to him and slinging a casual arm around his waist. “Just the bloke I was looking for.”

Doing his best to slide a smile onto his face, Remus wriggled out from under her arm and turned. “What can I do for you, Mar?”

“Please, please come out for drinks with me and Dorcas after work. I’ve already asked Gideon and Fabian, but one of their sister’s kids is having a birthday.”

“I don’t know, I’m not really much company these days,” he muttered, pouring himself some coffee and adding a little sugar. He held the pot out in offering, but she shook her head.

“Please? Peter invited us all to the pub where he’s meeting a few friends from his school days for dinner and a few pints, and you know how that will go. They’ll forget all about us even being there, and I’d really like someone I can talk to.”

“And Dorcas doesn’t qualify?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Marlene flushed slightly, but smiled gamely, pressing on. “Not when it comes to being able to poke fun at Pete. You know how that’s one of my main goals in life.”

“You know he’s not such a bad bloke, right?”

There was a small giggle in response, and Remus winced slightly. He liked Marlene, but her high pitched giggle tended to grate. “Of course he isn’t. If he were I wouldn’t get nearly so much pleasure out of making him blush.”

Remus, reassessing his assumption that Marlene and Dorcas might be dating, huffed out a breath, his shoulders slumping. “All right, you win. Just don’t expect me to be much of a conversationalist.”

“You’ll be there strictly to laugh at my jokes,” Marlene grinned, patting his arm. “And thank you.”

Rather than mention how he much he owed her for the place to stay, or how she was really his only friend these days since most of his friends had been Killian’s as well, or how he was starting to think that getting out of bed in the morning was more effort than it was worth, Remus just nodded. Coffee still clutched in his hand he slunk back to his desk to try and push through a little more work before the end of the day and an evening full of Peter Pettigrew’s old friends.

_What have I just been talked into?_ He thought, grabbing up his pen and leafing through pages to where he had left off. 

What felt like moments later, but his watch told him was in fact two hours, Marlene stopped by, her skirt swishing around her calves as she hopped up on the edge of his desk and swung her legs back and forth lazily. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, as he tucked the manuscript into a manila folder and from there into his tattered old rucksack to take home with him. For some reason he felt highly uncomfortable leaving it behind when he left work, something he had never felt with any of his previous work.

“Not in the slightest,” he answered wryly, shouldering his bag and following her out to her car, playing off just how uncomfortable he had become interacting with people these days.

“Dorcas is meeting us there, and Pete left ten minutes ago. It won’t hurt you to have a drink or two with friends, Remus.”

“You’re right,” he shrugged, folding himself into the passenger seat of her tiny green hatchback.

“But?” she pried, popping the car into drive and easing out into traffic.

Remus didn’t answer right away, but rather watched the buildings roll by as Marlene drove too fast, darting in and out of spaces he wouldn’t have attempted to get into on foot. Finally he settled for saying, “I haven’t felt like it.” He could practically feel her frowning at him, but he didn’t turn to look; didn’t know how to explain that he had started to feel like everyone tolerated him, but no one chose him; that he wasn’t worth choosing. 

He knew, rationally, that he and Killian had fallen apart because they simply didn’t work. It was hard to convince himself of that, though, when he couldn’t block out the sound of Killian’s voice reminding him how it was always his fault. How everything always was.

Marlene parked not too far from the pub and was kind enough not to prod him into talking while they walked the short block, rather keeping up a long running monologue about work so that he didn’t have to pay attention. Sometimes he really did love Marlene, despite her insistence that he socialize with other people.

The pub was small and not overly crowded as they walked through the door, glancing around for the blond hair of Peter. There was a low rumbling din of chatter that wasn’t unlike the one they had just left behind at work, but the smell of food was somewhat enticing, and Remus was surprised to find that he wasn’t dreading this nearly as much as he had been just a few minutes earlier.

Marlene spotted Peter first and she grabbed Remus by his wrist, towing him behind her as she wove between tables and people alike. He was about to say hi to Peter when he stopped abruptly. Marlene didn’t seem to notice as she threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze before settling into a seat beside Dorcas.

“Remus! You decided to join us after all!” Peter exclaimed just a touch too loudly. “Let me introduce-“

“Bloody hell,” muttered a voice from beneath a mop of messy black hair. “Pete, you might have mentioned that you had invited Remus. Now the prat will never let up.”

Peter flushed slightly and frowned at James who’s slumped shoulders and drawn brow screamed resignation. Remus would have felt bad for him if he could have torn his eyes away from the slow grin on the face of Sirius, who was lounging sprawled in a seat between James and Dorcas. A grin that was rapidly fading from startled to downright lascivious as he looked Remus over. Remus felt his face growing warm and he desperately hoped that the dim lighting would hide his discomfort, and that the brief memory of his late night fantasies wasn’t plastered across his face for all to see. 

“How was I supposed to know that Remus was the bloke he’s been whinging about all week?” Pete asked, slumping down a little in his seat.

“I absolutely must commend your taste in friends, Pete, mate,” Sirius smirked, even as he pulled out a seat and indicated for Remus to sit by him. “First you have the brilliant taste to be friends with myself and Jamie here - ”

“Don’t call me that, Black,” James interrupted darkly, but Sirius seemed completely oblivious to the death glare he was receiving. 

Dorcas and Marlene were watching the entire scene with matching looks of amusement and Remus wanted to sink through the floor.

“And now,” Sirius continued, flinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders as if they had known each other for years, “you contrive to bring me the man of my dreams. Brilliant, Pete. Absolutely brilliant.”

_At least,_ Remus thought, trying to suppress the twinge of desire that flittered through him at the lithely muscled arm around his shoulders, _he isn’t one of James’ other patients._

Not letting himself be flustered by this surprising turn of events Remus reluctantly ducked out from under the warm arm and turned to face Sirius. “I’m terribly sorry to find out that your dreams are so dull,” he murmured before accepting the menu that Marlene was holding out to him. He studied the options for only a moment before being forced to glance up at the bark like laugh that came from the man next to him.

“Gorgeous and witty. Next you’ll tell me you’re a brilliant shag, and then I shall be forced to propose on the spot.”

“And why would I tell you something like that?” Remus asked archly. “Isn’t that the sort of thing one finds out for themselves?”

The entire table got quiet for a moment, and only then did Remus realize exactly what he had said. Instead of being embarrassed, however, he found himself inordinately pleased that he was remembering how this worked after all.

Dorcas burst out laughing and Remus smiled slightly, ignoring the rather defeated groan that James let out. They were interrupted by a waitress coming by and taking their orders.

The conversation settled down after that, slipping into the more mundane of work and daily life. A hand slid tentatively onto his knee, and Remus glanced sidelong at Sirius to see that the other man was studiously inspecting his beer, tight little lines around his grey eyes.

_At least I’m not the only one not as cocky as they appear,_ Remus mused.

As he continued to watch surreptitiously Sirius’ shoulders tensed ever so slightly, and the hand started to pull away. Rather than let that happen, Remus traced a light finger over the back of Sirius’ hand, feeling the play of skin over tendon, the delicate bones of a slender wrist, the slight tremble of well concealed insecurity. He suddenly felt a whole lore more sure of himself as he laced their fingers together under the table. 

Whether or not he was ready for more this soon after Killian was still up for debate, but he was certainly ready to find out.

*****

Four pints and two hours later and Remus was well on his way to being completely sloshed. He was dutifully laughing at one of Marlene’s jokes that he hadn’t actually heard as distracted as he was by Sirius, who was mussing up James’ hair.

“Come on, James,” he wheedled, despite the frown James was aiming at him, or the hands trying to smack him away. “You don’t really have to go already, do you?”

“Of course he does,” Pete cut in, grinning. “Lily will feed him his bollocks through a straw if he’s late.”

Sirius snickered as James flushed but didn’t actually contradict them. Standing, James stretched and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end.

“Good night, everyone. Good to meet friends of Pete’s.” He turned to leave, grabbing a jacket off the back of his chair. Pausing, he grinned at Remus. “Oh, and Remus, don’t let this pillock drive you spare. He’s a bit like a puppy, feed him scraps and he’ll follow you everywhere until you get fed up and tie him to the train tracks. We haven’t had the heart to put him out of his misery yet, but I have a feeling you’ll want to long before the night is over. Don’t feel bad. No one will blame you.”

Sirius smacked him in the arm, muttering under his breath about traitorous best mates, but Remus just laughed.

“If he doesn’t turn up tomorrow I’ll have left him tied to the lamppost outside your office. Don’t worry, I’ll leave him a bowl of water.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Sirius turned the most devastating pout Remus had ever seen in his direction. “I see how it is. Poke fun at poor Sirius. It’s all right. I can take it.”

Remus, who had been feeling somewhat reckless since halfway through his first pint, took a deep breath, choked down the pulse he could taste at the back of his throat, and leaned in close. “Can you, now?” he whispered softly into Sirius’ ear.

Sirius startled like he’d been electrocuted and when he turned to face Remus his pupils were blown wide. Remus found himself completely unable to look away from the quick flicker of the tip of Sirius’ tongue as he licked his lips.

“Would you like to find out?”

It took a moment before Remus’ brain, which had fizzled out around the time Sirius’ hand slid up his thigh, processed that there had been words at all, let alone directed at him. Another moment for him to unravel them and turn them back into English. Then he promptly forgot how to breathe.

The low growl and blatant offer tightened things low in Remus’ stomach. He let the unfamiliar feeling of sudden, spontaneous desire wash over him, not fighting it in his inebriation. “I should say no,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Probably,” Sirius shrugged, catching his eyes, his own intense and focused. “Are you going to?”

Remus dropped a hand, covering the one that was resting on his thigh. Slowly and deliberately he slid Sirius’ hand up until it was just brushing the edges of where his trousers were now uncomfortably tight. “No. I’m not.”

The hand on his leg tightened briefly before grabbing ahold of his wrist. Remus schooled his face into something resembling neutral, or as best as he could manage while his pulse was racing and his lungs felt as though he were breathing through flames, sparks shooting off down to his fingertips and smoldering where Sirius’ hand was gripping him.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue to head home as well,” Sirius said calmly, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t just basically asked Remus to go to bed with him. There was a brief moment where Remus wondered if Sirius did this often, pulled random blokes to take home, but he squashed that train of thought quickly. Getting jealous wasn’t productive, and as drunk and lonely as he was right now he really wanted this to happen.

When Sirius stood, still holding onto Remus, Marlene snickered and nudged Dorcas who giggled. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “If James finds out you _actually_ took him home with you he’ll have your bollocks, and you know it Sirius.”

“I may love James, but that wife of his had turned him into an old maid. I’m allowed to enjoy myself once in a while, even if he isn’t anymore, and he can kindly keep his sodding opinions to himself.” Sirius flashed a sharp grin at Peter, who flinched slightly. “Besides, Pete, who’s going to tell him?”

“Oh, come off it, Pete,” Marlene cut in, leaning heavily into Dorcas’ side. “Remus could use a little excitement in his life these days. Let them be.”

Remus flashed her a grateful smile, but it was marred by the sudden surge of adrenaline that hit when he thought about actually going home with this beautiful man that he barely knew. It was so out of character, and yet he had never felt more like he was doing the right thing. Maybe he had spent so long being mundane for Killian that he had forgotten what it was to be reckless simply for the hell of it. Maybe it wasn’t Killian’s fault at all. Maybe he had always been mundane, and Killian just took it for granted. Maybe he was just looking to feel wanted in any way he could find it. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a light squeeze of his wrist.

“You can change your mind,” Sirius murmured low enough that the rest of the table couldn’t hear him.

Some of the tension slid out from his shoulders, and he maneuvered his hand to lace his fingers through Sirius’. “I don’t want to do that.”

The smile Sirius gave him made all the uncertainty worth it. He trusted James. He trusted Peter. If they both trusted this man he couldn’t be that bad. And that arse was definitely worth the risk of one night.

They slipped away from the table amidst much good humored laughter, and Remus knew he would be hearing about this on Monday, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was misting out and Remus found himself looking around for a car that looked like it might suit Sirius, until he saw the grin on Sirius’ face.

Parked just up the block was a shiny chrome and matte black motorcycle and Remus felt a tingle of nerves as Sirius sauntered up to it and handed him the only helmet. _Of course he has a motorcycle,_ he thought, eyeing the bike with not a small amount of trepidation.

“Never let it be said I am not a gentleman,” Sirius said, still grinning as he swung a leg over the bike.

After a moment where his brain stalled out at the sight of Sirius’ arse as he settled onto the motorcycle, Remus took a deep breath and flung himself on behind, only stumbling slightly when his vision fuzzed over from the alcohol and he couldn't quite figure out where to put his feet. His arms wrapped around a broad chest and his cheek pressed against a shoulder blade, the helmet forgotten and dangling from his hand.

Sirius slid the helmet out of his hand and turned around from his seat. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” he squeezed Remus’ arms where they wrapped around his chest. “You really ought to wear the helmet.”

“Are you even sober enough to drive?” Remus asked belatedly, blinking a couple of times. When Sirius frowned and hesitated for a minute Remus resisted the urge to ask if everything was okay, not wanting to spoil his chances.

Finally, Sirius chuckled. “I only had one pint, unlike some people around here.” He slid the helmet onto Remus’ head and fastened it.

The urge to point out that if he wore the helmet that left Sirius without one was strong, but just then Sirius kicked the bike to life. Remus tightened his grip a little and closed his eyes. Even as the wind whipped past his face he couldn’t help but notice the scent of Sirius’ cologne mingled with the scent of his skin, spicy and warm and musky. He had the sudden urge to taste him.

A few short miles later and the bike pulled to a stop in front of a large old house that looked like it had been split into several flats. It was a rambling place with pale blue siding and large windows and could probably have fit a dozen of Remus’ tiny flat.

The bike parked, Sirius helped Remus slide off the seat and led the way through a dim hallway up a flight of stairs to a door that he swiftly unlocked.

Remus barely had a chance to look around the comfortable looking room before there were hands on his shoulders, the wall at his back, and a mouth against his own.

Sirius tasted a bit like the cigarette they had shared at the pub, but when he nipped at Remus’ bottom lip Remus stopped noticing. He felt the light flick of a tongue against his lips and his mouth opened automatically, arms sliding around Sirius’ neck, fingers tangling into his slightly too long hair.

When Sirius finally pulled back Remus was out of breath. He dropped his head against Sirius’ shoulder, letting his fingers trail lightly down Sirius’ back from his collar to the hem of his dusty green tee-shirt. A slight shift in angle and his fingers were brushing up against bare skin.

The groan that slipped from Sirius’ mouth as Remus’ fingers dipped ever so slightly beneath the waistband of his denims made Remus’ head spin. It had been so long. The look in those thundercloud grey eyes, however, was at odds with the way Sirius was still clinging to him.

“Sirius?” he asked hesitantly, almost afraid to voice even that much.

With a grimace Sirius stepped back just slightly. Remus felt himself go numb, his ears ringing with embarrassment.

_I didn’t get this one wrong. I couldn’t have. He brought me home, he kissed me. He started this. What did I do wrong? Not even worth a one off._

The back of Sirius’ hand brushed lightly over his cheek pulling him back out of his head. “I’m sorry,” Sirius mumbled, flushing slightly.

“Hey, no pressure,” Remus replied, still not sure how to make his feet move in the direction of the door.

“It’s not that I don’t want this,” Sirius continued. Remus shrugged, trying to keep his face blank. Letting out a small growl Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand and placed it, not very gently, on the straining bulge in his denims. Remus gasped and squeezed lightly before he could stop himself.

Sirius whimpered slightly and his hips bucked forward once before he stepped back again. “I want this,” he reiterated forcefully.

“But?” Remus asked carefully.

"I didn't realize quite how drunk you were when I asked."

"I am more than sober enough to make this decision," Remus said, probably a touch too quickly, hoping he didn't sound as desperate to Sirius as he did to his own ears.

A hand tugged on a piece of hair in what Remus decided to interpret as a gesture of frustration. He barely heard the, “I must be daft,” coupled with a long sigh and an even longer pause.

"Sirius, really, no pressure. What's wrong?"

Finally, Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand and tugged him gently to sit on an overstuffed sofa in pale grey plaid. “Well, it turns out I like more about you than just your arse,” he said quietly.

“And that’s a problem?” Remus hedged, frowning.

The question was met with a humorless laugh. “It is when I come to the realization that I brought you home to shag, and what I really want is to ask you to dinner, not have a questionable, drunken one off and never see you again.”

When Remus glanced over Sirius was staring intently at the scuffed toes of his boots, which were a strange contrast with the muted coppery-orange throw-rug. There was a brief moment of panic when he first thought about it. A one off was one thing, but a date? Conversation, and intent and awkward silences and possibly having to explain about Killian. The risk of having his heart broken, again, so soon. 

And then he really looked at the man sitting beside him, already doing the awkward silence thing. His brow was drawn, his hands twisting in his lap in minute little stuttering motions, his shoulders were tense. All the nerves drained out of Remus in one rushing slide and he slumped a little into the sofa, which was terribly comfortable.

“Try it,” he said very gently.

Black hair flew in every direction as Sirius’ head snapped up, his eyes intense as he took in Remus, studying his face for a long moment and making the tips of his ears heat up.

_Why can he do that by just looking at me? I just had my hands on his bloody arse and it didn’t feel this intimate_. Remus shook his head slightly, not letting himself look away.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

Remus took a deep breath and let the alcohol that hadn’t worn off answer for him. “Only if I can kiss you again before I leave.”

The hand sliding up his jaw was reply enough.

*****

_Owen was looking around nervously, but Avery seemed completely unaware that anything was amiss. There was a small cottage at the end of the path he was casually sauntering down, seemingly oblivious to the rain that had picked back up again, or that the sun was starting to set which meant that it was well past curfew._

_He probably should have felt strange about following a complete stranger home. Even one that he had known for nearly a day now. He didn't trust anyone in a day, but there was something about Avery that made him_ want _to trust. And it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go._

_Avery pulled open the door and ushered Owen inside, shaking out his hair a bit like a dog, spraying droplets of rainwater everywhere. Owen was momentarily completely transfixed by the way Avery’s hair tumbled into his eyes, but he forcefully tore his eyes away._

_“Aren’t you worried about curfew?” Owen asked, glancing at the door that Avery hadn’t bothered to close. He was puzzled by the colors the sky was turning. Curfew meant he had never been outside this late, and all windows needed to be shuttered and barred._

_That caused Avery to frown slightly. “Whatever for? There’s nothing out there that can hurt me in the dark that couldn’t also hurt me in the light.”_

_Owen didn’t have an answer for that, rather settling for crossing the small room and leaning on his forearms against the edge of the windowsill and watching the way the rain refracted as it spattered against the glass, the colors of the sky in muted pastels that he couldn’t tear his eyes from. He had been told for so long that it wasn’t safe that Avery’s cavalier attitude struck him as strange, even though deep down he privately agreed with him. No one had ever said it out loud to him before, however, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. So he did nothing._

_The hand against his shoulder made him jump, but he still didn’t turn around. “There are things,” Avery started slowly, his hand still resting on Owen’s shoulder. Owen resisted the urge to cover it with his own. “things out there that cannot be easily explained. But that doesn’t always mean you have to be frightened of them,” he finished gently, still not removing his hand._

_Very hesitantly, Owen turned around, meeting Avery’s black eyes as steadily as he could. He reached out a hand and settled it tentatively on the other young man’s hip. “I don’t have to be frightened?”_

_In response Avery stepped closer still._

James Potter was standing beside the door to his inner office as Remus skidded to a stop, breathing heavily from his short dash into the building. He just shook his head and pushed his glasses a bit further up his nose, his blue checked shirt slightly rumpled on one side from leaning against the doorframe.

“I heard the motorcycle, so I won’t ask why you’re late. I’m sure I don’t actually want to know.” James waved a hand towards the door and followed Remus into the office, sitting down in his red armchair. Sometimes Remus wasn’t sure that James was really a professional at all. Or at the very least, not like any professional he had ever met before, but he refrained from commenting.

“Despite what Sirius might have insinuated to you, we are not actually shagging,” he chuckled, his breathing returning to normal as he settled himself into the chair opposite James. The look of relief on the other man’s face was short lived as he continued. “Unless you count the spectacular blow job I gave him this morning.”

James choked on what appeared to be nothing more than air, his face turning bright red. “I think Sirius has been a bad influence on you, Remus,” he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair and refusing to look up.

“Probably,” Remus consented unrepentantly. “But at least it’s fun.”

“I should probably have more reservations about one of my clients dating my best mate, but I’ve never seen you this animated before,” James said, frowning. “Not to mention he’s stopped showing up to my flat at all odd hours of the day. Lily’s ecstatic.”

“You’re girlfriend?” Remus asked curiously.

“Wife, actually.” James’ entire face lit up in a way that Remus had never seen before, eyes going distant, a small grin settling across his features and softening his entire appearance.

_Wow, he must be totally daft over her,_ Remus thought, startled. James had never struck him as the type.

“So,” James shook himself out of his stupor and looked back up at Remus. “How’s work been?”

_And those segues aren’t getting any cleaner,_ Remus chuckled, but didn’t comment.

Frowning, Remus didn’t reply right away. James didn’t press, just sat patiently, waiting until Remus had organized his thoughts. Unable to come up with the words to express what he was actually thinking, Remus just shrugged. “Well enough.”

“But?” James asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.

“I’m working on a side project for Dumbledore that is taking far longer to make it through than I expected. I know it’s a little extra work on the side, and that I’m doing fine with my regular manuscript edits, but I feel like I’m always behind and that eventually everyone will start worrying again. I mean, that was what got me sent here in the first place.” Then he grinned. “Of course, I can’t say I’m nearly as upset about that as I was a month ago.”

The groan that James let out was quite eloquent. Rather than comment on that, however, he stuck to the original topic, which was unusual for James. Usually Remus had pretty good luck changing the subject.

“Why do you think this one is taking so long?”

Since Remus had been asking himself that same thing nearly every day as he settled in to work he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

“Well, besides the obvious fact that I have to dedicate most of my work time to other things, there’s something…” he trailed off, frowning. “Unsettling about it.”

That got James to sit up, his hazel eyes bright behind his thick glasses. “Unsettling how? Is this something you want to actually talk about?”

Remus almost shook his head, but he found that he did sort of want to talk about it. “Nothing like that,” he started, studying the fraying cuffs of his pale yellow jumper so as not to have to look at James. “It’s not disturbing, or going to send me into a tailspin or anything like that. In fact, it’s decently well written, which these days is increasingly hard to come by.”

The clock on the wall chimed that their time had been up a while ago, but James seemed disinclined to move or stop Remus, so he ignored it as well.

The silence that followed as Remus struggled with how to explain was thick, but not uncomfortable. Startled, Remus realized that somewhere along the line he had come to like James, not just as a counselor but as a person. Mulling that over, he kept talking, only half paying attention to what he was saying.

“There’s just something about it that I feel I should recognize,” he finished, frustrated, both with his inability to explain, and his hesitance to even try. Sometimes he was startled that James wasn't more frustrated with him, as well. Especially when it took large amounts of time for him to organize his thoughts. 

It was more than that, and less, and he wasn’t sure how to put into words that it felt like he could sink into it and let the story of these two young boys swallow him.

Glancing at the clock James pretended to notice how late it was. He didn’t do a very good job, opening his eyes really wide and shaking his head a little too forcefully.

“How did it get that late already?”

Remus let him get away with it, trying not to sigh. Sometimes it was very easy to see why he and Sirius got on so well.

“If you feel like you actually need to talk about this feel free to call me. Even at home. Sirius has the number.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Both Remus and James turned, startled. Clambering to his feet James cracked open the door.

As if summoned, Sirius stood on the other side, pushing his way into the room as soon as he saw that they were no longer busy.

“That’s it, Potter. You’ve had him for an extra twenty minutes. I’m claiming Remus back now, please.”

Remus stood slowly and crossed the room, stopping just in front of Sirius. Carding a hand through soft black hair he gently leaned in until their mouths were almost touching. Sirius’ eyes slowly slid closed down to slits, and his breathing picked up slightly. Remus felt heady with the knowledge that he could do this to someone else, but particularly to Sirius, who was so brash and so always ready for anything. To make him stop short, wanting, was an overwhelming sensation.

“Am I going to have to teach you patience?” he asked slowly, letting their lips just brush as he spoke.

A small whimper, and Sirius slid his arms around Remus’ waist, low on his hips. “Please?” he whined.

Remus gave in and kissed him gently, enthralled with the way they seemed to fit together perfectly even though they had only known each other a little more than a month.

“Could you two please at least not do that in front of me?” James groaned.

“With the number of times I had to watch you snog that bird of yours? Not a chance.” Sirius grinned, but he did let his arms slide away from Remus.

Remus didn't want to believe that all it took was one passing comment from James to make Sirius let go, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it had. The smile didn’t fall from his face, but he did suddenly feel very cold.

*****

_Owen wasn’t sure when it had gotten dark out. Avery had disappeared into the small sectioned off part of the room that doubled as a kitchen and was tossing vegetables into a pot. There was a loaf of dark bread and a wedge of cheese on a board and Owen was doing his best to not stare. His stomach was pointing out that it had been nearly an entire day since he had eaten, but he was doing his best to behave as if this wasn’t true. Not only because he had more manners than that, but because if he wasn’t going home again he was going to have to get used to being hungry. He wasn’t under the delusion that Avery was planning on letting him stay in his home since they hadn’t even known each other an entire day. Which meant that he was going to have to come up with some other plan quickly._

_He turned away from watching the other boy who didn’t have any idea that had basically saved Owen’s life just by showing up that morning. The hard wood of the walls was digging into his back, but the only real furniture in the room was a small bed and he wasn’t about to presume to sit there. A quick, surreptitious stretch to work the kinks out of his shoulders and he glanced again at the window, startled to find that the blackness outside wasn’t as black as he had first thought._

_Without thinking about it he slowly got to his feet and crossed to the door, hand on the handle before he realized what he was doing._

_“It’s alright,” Avery whispered, suddenly at his shoulder. "There is nothing out there that can hurt you."_

_Hands shaking slightly, though he barely noticed, Owen pushed the heavy door open with a gentle creak and stepped outside to a myriad of tiny pricks of light._

_Turning around he was about to ask Avery about them when he caught a glimpse of the other boy’s eyes, which had bled completely to black, looking like nothing short of onyx chips set in his face._

_Flinging himself away with a muffled cry, he held up his hands to keep some distance between them. “What are you?” he hissed, backing away slowly._

_Avery took a cautious step forward, and Owen felt a tree hit his back, his head shaking a silent no._

_“Please.” The way Avery’s voice cracked almost gave Owen pause, but not quite enough to keep him from turning and fleeing into the woods._

_It didn’t take him long into his flight, however, to realize that it was a foolish move. The kind of thing he was prone to that led him to things like running away from home that morning, and now to being hopelessly lost in unfamiliar terrain, under a dark sky he had never seen._

_When he inevitably tripped over a fallen tree branch and sprawled across the sodden earth, tearing a hole in his trousers and jarring his knee so that his entire leg went numb, he inched himself over to the base of a sprawling birch tree and curled up._

_“Well,” he muttered to himself, prodding at his knee to make sure it was just bruised. “This has been a bloody brilliant day. First homeless, and now lost. What other rash decisions can I make before the day is over?”_

_He lay there shivering for an unaccountable period of time, arms wrapped around his chest, head turned to stare at the sky wishing he weren't too worn out and frightened to appreciate the wonder at seeing it for the first time. He had heard about the stars, of course, but the strictly enforced curfew meant that all he had ever done was hear about them._

_“I used to sneak out of the house just to watch the stars.”_

_The sound of Avery’s voice, hesitant and soft off to his left, should have surprised him, but his exhaustion was winning out over his fear, and he no longer cared how Avery had found him, or why. His initial burst of adrenaline was fading quickly leaving him wanting nothing more to find a safe place to sleep for the next couple of days at least._

_“I’ve never seen them,” he said softly, sitting up but not looking at Avery, just continuing to watch the twinkling overhead, disturbed by the occasional cloud passing by, a darker shadow in the already interminable blackness._

_“I’m sorry,” was the only reply as Avery settled in against the same tree trunk, near enough to touch if Owen chose, but far enough away that he didn’t feel trapped. He would have felt slightly offended that Avery was treating him like a spooked animal, but he figured he deserved it after the way he ran. Not that he would ever give anyone the satisfaction of owning up to it._

_They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, until Owen shivered violently._

_Slowly, giving Owen plenty of time to move or stop him, Avery wrapped his arms around Owen, pulling him in against his chest._

Remus had called in to work for the first time in almost four years. Living with a doctor had effectively taken that option away from him for some time, but he simply wasn’t up to getting out of bed.

In fact, he hadn’t gotten out of bed for three days now. Not to answer the phone or get food or get dressed. He knew his answering machine was full of messages, because he had heard it beep repeatedly that morning alone. Ignoring wasn’t going to be possible for much longer, but still he didn’t move.

Tossing listlessly, he tugged a pillow over his head to try and block out the light streaming in through the bedroom window, and to block his view of the small bottle tempting him from the nightstand. Later, he’ll blame that for not hearing the door until a weight settled next to him on the bed.

He pulled the pillow off his head and glanced up, bleary eyed and fuzzy. “How did you get in here?” he asked the overly still form of Sirius, who was frowning down at him.

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Sirius replied, flashing the shadow of a grin at him. After a pause in which Remus raised an eyebrow at him he added, “Picked the lock on your door.”

Remus snorted and worked on sitting up. At least, that was the plan until a hand settled gently on his chest, pushing him softly back into the mattress. “You don’t need to get up on my account.”

Expecting Sirius to climb into bed with him, Remus made a puzzled little sound at the back of his throat when that didn’t happen.

“Pete said you called in sick, and that you never do that. I’m here to see if you need anything.”

Feeling slightly more awake than when Sirius first showed up, Remus was torn between finding that sweet and slightly creepy. “So you broke into my flat?”

Sirius shrugged, carding his fingers through Remus’ hair, tugging slightly at it, which was far more soothing than Remus wanted to admit to, terrified over how quickly he had come to crave this. 

“I did try and call first, but you weren’t answering your phone.” The _I was worried,_ went unspoken, but Remus heard it anyway.

"That's a little creepy, you know," Remus mumbled, but the sting was taken out of it when he turned his head and buried his face against Sirius' thigh, snuggling into his warmth. Sirius continued to play with his hair and Remus felt himself starting to doze back off. With a heroic effort he pried his eyes open and rolled onto his back, head still propped on Sirius' leg, but now he could look him in the eye, see the worry swirling through the pale grey. "I might even be a bit annoyed with you eventually. When I wake up." 

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything," Sirius pouted, eyes going comically wide. 

Remus sighed, completely helpless to what he knew were intentional puppy dog eyes. "I know. It's not any less creepy, but it's a little sweet, too." 

The smile that Sirius turned on him was completely devastating, and Remus couldn't help but smile back. "Would you like tea, or food or something?" he asked, catching Remus' eyes and holding them. 

"Tea doesn't sound bad," Remus started, wrapping an arm around Sirius' leg and holding on, "but I think I'd rather just keep you here with me for a little while longer." 

It took some weird contorting, but Sirius bent and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, softer and sweeter than anything they had shared up until that point. It contained none of the heat that they still hadn't dulled, but was all the more intense for it. Carefully extricating himself from under Remus' head Sirius stood, tucking the pillow back in its place so Remus didn't just fall back to the mattress. 

Remus let out a little whimper, but Sirius just smiled at him. "Let me make you some tea, and then I'll come back to bed, if that's what you want." 

"It's definitely what I want." 

"Then I'll brave catching whatever you have and I'll come join you as soon as I've made you your Earl Grey." 

"I'm not contagious, Sirius, just tired. I figured after four years I deserved a day of skivving off work in favor of sleep." The admission slipped out before he could stop himself. Flinching he waiting for the yelling, the accusations of laziness and irresponsibility.

Sirius pulled up short just in the doorway, and Remus huddled, expectantly. Turning around slowly, Sirius looked at Remus like he had never seen him before, and then he burst out laughing. "I think I may just have to keep you, Remus. You're wonderful." And with that he slipped out of the room and started banging around the kitchen, leaving Remus feeling extremely confused. 

Very slowly, Remus rolled over to face the little table next to his bed, pulling open the drawer and dropping in the almost full bottle of sleeping pills that he had been staring at for the last three days. Killian had pressed them on him almost a year ago, telling him that he couldn't sleep when Remus had insomnia, because he tossed and it kept Killian awake. He had never taken them, just moved onto the couch the nights he couldn't sleep, at least, until they had stopped sharing a bed almost completely. He didn't want Sirius asking about them. He didn't want to lie to him, but he also didn't think he was ready to tell him just how close that bottle had come to being suddenly empty. 

***** 

Remus pressed his cheek to Sirius' shoulder blade, inhaling well-worn leather, and closed his eyes. The motorcycle wasn't quite as terrifying as it had been the first time he was on it sober, but he still wasn't comfortable with the world spinning by at breakneck speeds and no buffer between it and him. He knew it probably wasn't comfortable for Sirius to have his helmet, purchased by Sirius after only their second date, dug into his back, but he never complained and always kissed Remus back down from his nerves when they got off the bike.

It wasn’t even that he didn’t like the motorcycle, the adrenaline of it, the way he was required to wrap around Sirius, intimate in a very mundane sort of way that he loved. It was more that the way the world whipped by was dizzying as much as it was thrilling, spiraling through his vision unfocussed and bright, a living work of modern art that he hadn’t figured out how to interpret. He wondered if that was part of the appeal.

"We could have taken my car," he grumbled, tightening his hold around Sirius' chest as the engine kicked to life. 

"That's not nearly as much fun. I like getting to talk you down afterwards." Sirius chuckled, and throttled the bike into motion. 

"You know you don't need to fabricate excuses to kiss me, right?" Remus shouted, making sure Sirius could hear him over the engine and the wind. He was starting to worry that he was developing a Pavlovian response to the smell of leather and petrol. 

The rumble in Sirius' chest that he felt while he clung as tightly as he could manage hinted that maybe he had responded, but Remus couldn't hear him as the wind whipped his words past him and into the ether. 

At first he tried to keep track of their turns, to guess at where they might be going, but all he could truly tell was that the wind bit at his cheeks and whipped at his shirt, leaving him feeling chafed and exhilarated all at once. 

He only knew they had left the city when the sound of the tires changed. A quick glance was enough for him to realize he had no idea where Sirius was taking him before he squeezed his eyes shut again and kept them that way until the bike stilled. 

When they finally stilled, Remus still feeling like his legs were vibrating with the rumble of the motor, they stayed seated for a long moment. After a long breath Remus pried his eyes open to find Sirius watching him with a faint smile that crinkled up the corners of his eyes in a way that his smirking grins could never compare to. There was a small snick as their helmets were unclipped and slid off, one after the other, and Remus carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair, still perfect despite the windy ride.

They didn’t say anything, Sirius watching him with a small frown until Remus buried his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck, breathing in the warm scent of clean skin and expensive body wash.

“We have to walk a little ways from here,” Sirius said quietly, hesitantly, his arms curled loosely around Remus’ back. “If you don’t mind.”

“Where you lead I shall follow,” he grinned, ignoring the way his pulse picked up as he spoke; the words probably more true than he was willing to admit to yet, even to himself.

Sirius waited until Remus had clambered off the motorcycle before sliding off himself and propping it up. He held out a hand, and Remus laced their fingers together, squeezing gently and earning himself another small smile.

The trees were thick and Sirius led the way into the thickest patch, completely unconcerned about the lack of a path or trail of any kind. The ground was soft, thick with decomposing leaves even though it was still early August, the smell of damp earth pungent. There was a trickle of sunlight filtering through the treetops in slanting geometrics.

“You do know where you’re going, right?” Remus asked, making sure to keep his tone light, teasing.

In reply Sirius stopped walking and tugged Remus to him by their still joined hands. He kissed him gently, slowly. Remus still wasn’t used to this side of Sirius. After their first couple months together where everything was heat and intensity, this new sweet, careful treatment was so much more intense. Sometimes he was sure he would combust with it.

“Trust me?” 

The confident tone was belied by the slight tightening around the corner of grey eyes, and Remus smiled back, smoothing out the pinched crinkles with his thumb. “Of course.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, maybe a mile if Remus had to guess, before the trees thinned into an expansive clearing with a small creek bubbling merrily towards a small gorge. There were a few lingering wildflowers left from spring, purples and blues peeking up through the tall grass. It was unbearably familiar and suddenly all the pieces clicked.

“This is my favorite place is the world,” Sirius whispered, tucking an arm around Remus’ waist, low across his hips. His thumb was gently brushing the skin between the light yellow linen of Remus’ dress shirt and his denims. It was less of an intentional gesture, and the possessiveness of it felt far more intimate to Remus than many of the things they had done in bed.

He didn’t answer right away, swallowing down his initial instinct to tell Sirius that he knew, that he recognized this hidden away glade almost immediately. Only an instinct for self-preservation held his tongue. Owning up to knowing secrets that you hadn’t specifically been told was a good way to start a fight, and the last thing he wanted was to fight with Sirius.

Instead, he just leaned his head against Sirius’ chest and listened to his heartbeat, letting Sirius direct where this outing would go.

“I found it when I first ran away from home,” Sirius continued, his voice catching slightly. Suddenly Remus was very glad he had refrained from speaking. 

When no more words were forthcoming Remus finally gave in and carded his fingers lightly through Sirius’ hair. It was an indulgence he couldn’t seem to break, loving the slide of fine strands between his fingers. Fortunately, Sirius seemed to enjoy the attention, and never complained of Remus being too touchy.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want,” he said, finally, still looking out at the burbling water, afraid of what he might see if he met grey eyes instead.

Remus felt more than heard the small sigh, but Sirius caught hold of the hand that was still playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, pressing a small kiss to the palm. “I do want, just give me a minute?”

“Take all the time you need.”

It was difficult to not take the way Sirius detached himself and wandered off to heart, but Remus let him go. He meandered over to where the water tumbled over the edge of the gorge, the blue melding into the blue of the sky stretching out over the ravine he was suddenly overlooking. The trees far below were a mottled patchwork of greens, and the sky, clear for once, seemed to go on forever. Before he really knew what he was doing he was holding his arms out just a bit, letting the slight breeze blow through his light shirt, staring off into what may as well be the edge of the word.

“It almost makes you feel as though you can fly, doesn’t it?”

Remus didn’t startle at the sound of Sirius so close behind him, but he did drop his arms back to his sides, embarrassed. 

“I almost tried, the first time I was out here. My head was such a mess that I figured either I would fly or I wouldn’t, but either way it would be glorious.”

With a small shiver that he wasn’t quite able to contain, Remus tried to turn to face Sirius, but was stopped by the arms that slid around him. He leaned back into his lover’s warmth, unconsciously fidgeting with his cuffs.

A small kiss was pressed into the edge of his jaw. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Sirius murmured, still nuzzling him, lips brushing just behind his ear with each word.

“Hmm?” Remus hummed in question, tipping his head to the side to encourage Sirius attentions to his neck.

“Hide from me.” Sirius gently slid the cuffs of Remus’s shirt up his arms a few inches until they got stuck on the buttons, exposing the tops of long, thick white scars.

A quick tug and Remus covered his arms again, tasting his pulse. He had spent so many years hiding them away that having them acknowledged so casually left him reeling.

“Please don’t,” Sirius whispered gently. “I hate that you don’t trust me enough to not hide them.”

“It’s not about trust,” Remus hissed, tearing himself out of Sirius’ arms and whirling around. Sharp little motions flicked the buttons on his sleeves open and rolled the soft fabric up his arms, not unlike removing armor. “It’s about the pity I can see you fighting to hide. It’s about knowing that now you are going to want to treat me like I’m fragile, like I could break at any second. It’s about not being able to bear seeing the disappointment on your face when you understand just what a selfish coward I really am. It’s about wanting to hold onto you, to this, just a little while longer before I ruin it all.”

Slowly, as if trying not to spook him, Sirius reached out and gently cupped Remus’ wrist in his hand, thumb running lightly over the bones in his wrist. He placed a soft kiss on the thickest, toughest section of scarring, flicking his tongue out lightly over the pulse point there and garnering a soft gasp from Remus.

“Whoever called you a coward, or told you you were selfish, has clearly never taken the time to get to know you.”

One juddering breath, then another, and Remus let his knees give out on him, sinking to the ground. He wasn’t sure what to make of Sirius being understanding, a small part of him still fearing that his weakness was being filed away for later exploitation. He felt a little guilty, thinking about Sirius that way, but that didn't change his instinct to keep everything locked away where it couldn't be turned into a weapon during some later, bitter argument. 

The ground was chilly, but thankfully not damp, and Remus drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and looking out over the valley below. He heard the rustle of leather and denim as Sirius sat down beside him, not quite touching, but close enough that if Remus wanted he could reach out for him. It was such a careful gesture, and Remus was torn between being grateful and irritated that Sirius thought he needed to be treated gingerly. 

"When I was eighteen," Sirius started slowly, "I had my whole life planned. For me. By my parents. They had actually taken the liberty of enrolling me in the university of their choice without even so much as informing me, let alone asking." He trailed off, and Remus slid a hand over, covering Sirius' where it was resting on the ground. There was a slight tremor running through the other man as he twinned their fingers together, but Remus held his silence, letting Sirius decide what he wanted to share. 

They sat that way for a long time, just holding hands and watching the sun start to sink, turning the sky a violent shade of pinkish purple. As the light was starting to dim Sirius gave his hand a squeeze and let go. 

"I told them that James and I had planned to take a gap year and travel, and that I had no intention of going to university to be a lawyer like my father. There was a huge row. The results of which were them cutting me off, and my packing a bag, getting in my car and driving. I found this place by accident. I had gotten hopelessly lost in the middle of the night, ended up sleeping in the back of my car. Eventually I moved in with James, although, we didn’t get that gap year. I got a job washing dishes instead. Well, anyway, something good came out of it, finding this. Now I come up here when I need a break from my life for a little while." 

Remus didn't ask if Sirius had ever gone back, ever spoken to them again. He gathered from the lack of pictures or cards or any indication that Sirius ever had a family anyplace in his rather expansive flat that he hadn't. He also didn’t ask what it was about his life right now that Sirius needed a break from. He wasn’t sure he really wanted that answer.

"I think your happiness is worth something, as well." The smile Sirius gave him was a little wobbly around the edges, but it was bright despite that. Remus leaned in to kiss him gently. 

***** 

_Owen stuttered to a stop just at the edge of the clearing. Avery was pulling his shirt off, flopping on his back beside the bubbling creek. His skin was burnished, smooth and Owen couldn't breathe for the want that suddenly flashed through him. In the month since Avery first brought him out here they had gotten closer, more comfortable with each other, which made Owen feel increasingly guilty that he found the other boy as beautiful as he did. He hastily swallowed down his desire before settling himself on the grass next to his friend._

_They lay there in silence for a long time, not uncomfortably. Owen snuck a glance to his left, and saw that Avery has his dark eyes closed, a small smile on his face, his curls wild around his ears, tumbling across his cheek._

_Before he could over think what he was doing, Owen reached out and very lightly brushed the curls away, being very careful to not touch Avery's face. He didn't dwell on the way his hand was shaking._

_Avery cracked open one eye lazily, his smile growing as he peered up at Owen. Rather than speak, he lifted his own hand and covered Owen's, pressing it to his cheek._

_After a shuddering breath, Owen let his thumb ghost over Avery's prominent cheekbone. "You never said," he started hesitantly, "why you brought me with you that day."_

_The sigh that escaped between Avery's lips was barely audible, and Owen decided to not comment, already regretting that he asked. He hated the pinched look at the corners of Avery's eyes, the way his lips tightened into a thin line. He hated even more that he was the cause of them._

_"You've seen me," he began quietly, still allowing Owen to continue his caress, but no longer leaning into it like he had been. "What happens if I'm not careful."_

_"Which you never did explain." Owen immediately wished he had better control over his tongue. His ingrained tendency to lash out overruling his common sense and decency. He wanted to apologize, but he was fairly sure that would only make it worse, so he kept his mouth shut and pretended it didn't hurt when Avery inched away, turning his head to look out over the edge of the gorge._

_"You stopped being afraid of me. I didn't want to risk that," Avery whispered, his shoulders tense, despite his carefully relaxed posture._

_"Maybe you should have trusted me to not change my mind just because you told me why, instead of leaving me to wonder. If I can trust you without knowing, what harm could the truth do?"_

_Avery had the decency to look slightly chagrined by that, propping himself up on one arm and glancing back at Owen briefly. "I don't actually know what I am." He shrugged the shoulder he wasn't leaning on. "Sometimes some of us, we're born wrong. Different. I don't know how or why. But we can do things. Usually not useful ones, either. I once met a girl who could breathe underwater. Her brother could make a plant grow or die with a simple touch. I've heard stories about people who could become invisible, or travel great distances with just a thought. I don't know what to believe, but I've seen enough, lived enough, that I know not to just discount it as fiction."_

_"And you?" Owen asked, allowing himself to place a hand on Avery's shoulder and squeeze, making sure Avery knew he wasn't going anywhere, even if he had someplace to go._

_"What did you see, that first night?"_

_"I saw the stars. In your eyes."_

_The humorless chuckle that Avery let slip make something clench in Owen's chest, and he slid down so he was laying beside Avery. He tentatively wrapped an arm around the other boy, tucking him in against his chest when he wasn't pushed away._

_"I can embody the night," Avery continued, rolling over to face Owen and resting his head against his chest. Owen was sure he would hear the way his heart was trying to crack through his breastbone, but Avery said nothing, just wrapping an arm around him and clinging. "I can sort of meld with it. It's not invisibility, but it's close. It doesn't really do my any good unless I want to hide." He paused again. "Or frighten off new friends. I usually have better control than that night, but I hadn't spoken to another human being in so long, and I just sort of forgot that I needed to be careful."_

_"Why do you hide out here, if you can control it?"_

_"Why are you?" Avery countered, tightening his hold as if he was afraid that Owen would slip away. Owen didn't know how to convince him that he wasn't going anywhere. That Avery had a hold on his heart that was every bit as secure as the one he currently had around his ribs._

_"Because my mother will never find me out here," he replied with a shrug. "I don't want to ever give her the opportunity to drag me home." And because I think I'm in love with you. I know it's too soon, and that I shouldn't feel like this about another boy, but I can't make myself stop. He didn't say any of that out loud, though, unsure how Avery would take that, especially considering the way they were basically cuddling. Avery had been very tactile from the day they had met, and Owen didn't want to discourage that by letting on just how much he enjoyed it. It was selfish, but that was something he had come to terms with about himself a long time ago. If he hadn't been selfish he would never have left home and left his brother behind, no matter how much his mother doted on her younger son._

_"I'm out here because someone has been hunting down the other people like me. The girl who I said could breathe underwater? Her name was Beth. Her brother Elijah came to me two years ago to tell me that he had come back from looking for firewood and found her strung up from the top of the tree they had been camping under. And she wasn't the only one. Messages have been coming, once in a while, of other deaths. Unnatural ones. We are a hunted breed, and I'm rather attached to being alive."_

_Owen chuckled at that. "Yeah, I'm rather attached to you being alive, too."_

_"You'd survive if I was gone," the smile that Avery flashed up at him belied the heavy tone of his words, but Owen didn't miss the way that it didn't meet his eyes._

_"You're right, I would. You've taught me to be pretty self-sufficient over this last month."_

_Avery tensed and tried to roll away, but Owen tightened his own grip, not letting him escape._

_"But I wouldn't want to," he added very softly, reaching one hand up and carding through Avery's curls, loving the way those dark eyes slid mostly closed when he tugged just slightly._

_"Would you mind terribly if I said I wanted to kiss you?" Avery asked, his voice shaking, his eyes still closed._

_Owen let his hand pause only briefly before he continued toying with the soft strands of hair, letting them sift through his fingers like grains of sand while he counted down his pulse until it was something resembling normal again._

_"I would mind it a great deal more if you didn't do it," he replied, before tipping Avery's face up and catching his small gasp between his own lips._

***** 

Remus couldn't feel his legs. His breathing was still coming in stuttered gasps and he was as pliant and sated as he could ever remember being. But not quite so much that he couldn't appreciate the sight of Sirius padding across the room naked with a damp flannel to clean them both off. He wasn’t sure what good thing he had done to earn the right to that image seared into his brain.

An attempted grope later and moving really was just too much work after the tension release of finally getting Sirius into bed after months of dating intermingled with only a few short, desperate fumbles that had been satisfying enough, but nothing like this. Being able to take his time and map out every inch of Sirius, finding all the spots that made him hiss and writhe and whimper, was proving to be addictive, however. 

He groaned even as Sirius bent and kissed him long and slow, a low spark of desire curling in his stomach, despite his lassitude. 

"How is it you're still that gorgeous even after sex?" he asked when they broke apart. 

"Natural talent," Sirius grinned down at him cheekily, handing him the flannel. The tacky mess was cooling quickly, and Remus grimaced as he tried to wipe himself off, eventually giving up and forcing his legs to work so he could use the sink. 

He heard Sirius moving around the bedroom but he couldn't make out what he was doing over the running water. Eventually clean, he rinsed the flannel out as best as he could and draped it over the edge of the tub before wandering back into Sirius' enormous bedroom, only to find Sirius sprawled across the bed looking a bit like one of his wank fantasies. Or perhaps all of them. His pale skin nearly glowed against the red sheets, his mussed dark hair an ink stain across the pillows. In fact, he was fairly certain he had had this exact dream not too long ago. Although, as it turned out, the fantasy didn't even come close to living up to the real thing. 

He still wasn't convinced he actually deserved this, but he wasn't going to push his luck by bringing that up. Maybe the universe would overlook its mistake and let him keep Sirius for a while longer.

The bed was still warm when he climbed back in it, curling up and letting Sirius manhandle him into snuggling. Not that he was opposed, just not expectant. He took a deep breath, inhaling sweat and sex and warm skin, then tossed a leg over Sirius’ still bare hip. “I could get used to this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the skin of Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius chuckled, his fingers playing lightly over Remus’ back, skimming back and forth, not quite low enough to be considered sexual but more than just casual. Remus shivered, not quite sure what to make of it. “Good. I’d like it if you did.”

There was a long silence and Remus was starting to doze off when he felt a light finger tracing over the thickest of his scars. Prying his eyes open, he frowned, but didn’t say anything, letting Sirius look, trying not to instinctively pull away. It didn't feel judgmental, unlike basically everyone else that had ever known about them, so Remus tried to relax. It wasn’t easy, though, and Sirius seemed to be aware of the slow tension seeping into his bones because he stopped, one finger still lightly grazing the marks, but no longer intentionally touching.

“Do you want to tell me?”

Normally Remus would have immediately balked at that question, but there was something so calming about lying in bed with Sirius, post sex, and absolutely no expectations in his voice. He wasn’t sure he had ever been asked like that, without some sort of agenda or insistence. It was always “you should talk about it” or “it will be good for you to tell someone” or “you need someone to fix you, and they can’t do that if you don’t talk about it”. Even James, who was by far the most understanding counselor he had ever been to see, and who never pushed him to talk about things he didn’t want to talk about, always had that disappointed look when he changed the subject. 

“Not really,” Remus whispered into Sirius’ shoulder, trying to convince his muscles that he was still relaxed and that he really didn’t have to get up and leave. “But I also don’t want to keep it from you.”

There was some shifting and Remus was afraid Sirius was pulling away, but took a deep breath when Sirius just leaned down to kiss him before fitting his arm around Remus’ shoulders again, a little more level so he could look him in the eye. “No pressure, Remus. I want you to trust me, but not because you think you should, just because you actually do.”

“It’s not about trusting you, Sirius, it’s about trusting myself.”

Much to Remus’ surprise, Sirius didn’t question that at all, just kept his arms around Remus, running one lightly up and down his arm, making the hairs tickle.

“I never… I didn’t want…” The air was frozen in Remus’ lungs, he couldn’t get enough of it, and still Sirius just held him, let him shake apart, and never once pressed for anything more. It took a few minutes before the first gasp of air that was no longer shaky, but it came, and then another. Sirius never moved.

“I didn’t want to bring my ex into this,” he finally finished, ducking his head into Sirius’ chest so he didn’t have to meet his eyes. “And I certainly didn’t want to bring him into bed with us, but I’m afraid if I move now I’ll panic and not be able to tell you.” 

“You still don’t have to,” Sirius said quietly.

“I think,” another deep breath. “I think I do if I want you to understand.”

“Okay.” Just that. No recriminations, or hesitation or even worry. It wasn’t soft and gentling, and it was more calming than any tender words could have been. Remus quietly wondered when it would all fall apart, because things this good didn’t happen. Not in real life.

“Killian was not the most understanding about-“

“Was he the arse who told you that you were selfish?” Sirius cut in, vitriol in his voice. Then he seemed to remember himself, because he loosened his hold on Remus. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

Remus snorted and curled further into Sirius, unwilling to let him pull away just yet. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’m hoping that’s why you now use the term ex.” The silence was not exactly silent and Remus felt Sirius tense. “Remus?”

“It was a little less that and a little more the other guy he was shagging on the side, which I walked in on not long before we met for the first time.”

That got a reaction. Sirius sat up, dislodging Remus in the process. The look he turned down at him made Remus cringe and curl his arms around himself. “So you’re telling me that a bloke who dared talk to you like that - and I assume it had to be a lot more than once for you to actually buy into his utter bollocks - was also cheating on you?”

It took a lot for Remus not to flinch at the tone of Sirius’ voice. Instead, he just nodded, sitting up and pulling the comforter with him so he didn’t have to be naked for this conversation. He considered reaching for his pants and trousers, but was afraid to get off the bed for fear of being asked not to come back. He really wasn’t ready for that. Not again.

He was a little startled when instead of pushing him away Sirius pulled him roughly to him, pressing him to his bare chest and carding his fingers through his hair. “It’s no wonder you don’t trust people. Someone who should have worshipped you for the wonderful bloke you are instead goes and...” There was a small kiss pressed into his hair as Sirius trailed off, and Remus felt his eyes prickling. “I’m surprised you were willing to give me a chance at all.”

Pulling back enough to speak Remus sighed. “That’s just it, Sirius. It isn’t that I don’t trust people. Because I do. I trust you, I trust James and Peter and Marlene and Dorcas. It’s myself I don’t trust. Because I trusted Killian, too. Even when we were fighting, even when we were absolutely screaming at each other and he was storming out. I may not have liked him in the end, but I still _trusted_ him. So now I don’t know if I can trust my own judgement anymore. How could I have been so wrong?”

There was a long moment where Remus was sure he had finally proven he was going to be too much work and that Sirius would decide he wanted a little more fun and a little less stress from a partner. Tensed as he was for that final blow he jumped a little when Sirius finally spoke.

“I trust you.” Such a simple thing, undermining his entire rant. Remus felt his lungs constrict at that sentiment.

Almost against his will he sought out Sirius’ eyes, finding them clear and unwavering. He had to look away again.

Sirius gave him a moment before continuing. “Is that why you always hide your scars?”

Remus shook his head. “No, that’s not new. I don’t like talking about them, so I try and forestall any questions.” He shrugged. “But yes, in a way. Having them used against me definitely made it harder.”

It took Sirius’ hand covering his for Remus to realize that he was picking at the edges of the comforter where it pooled in his lap. He forced himself to be still despite the desperate urge to flee. Sirius, who had been nothing but sweet and supportive, deserved to know what he was getting himself into.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sirius said quietly, still holding on to Remus’ hand, thumb running lightly over his wrist making Remus shiver.

“It really wasn’t that dramatic. Everyone wants it to be some big event that pushed me over the edge, but it wasn’t. Not really.”

Sirius seemed to know what Remus needed, because he said nothing, just leaned in, shoulder to should, an anchor without being a weight. Remus was the one who twinned their fingers together.

“People always think it was when my dad died, or when mum had to sell the farm because she couldn’t keep it running by herself, but it wasn’t. It was almost a year after that, when we spent our first summer in the tiny flat we had moved to." Remus paused and took a steadying breath before pushing forwards. "I've always had bad days. Days where it was just too hard to even get out of bed, but I just sort of pushed through them. And one day I was just sitting home while my mother was at work and I didn't want to just muddle through anymore, and the only thing I could think about was not having to keep trying. There was no big horrible thing that pushed me to it. I just sort of gave in to the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me that it was the best solution to hurting." 

Sirius was quiet for a long time, but it didn't feel judgmental, so Remus tried very hard not to fidget or pry into what he was thinking. There was a reason he hated talking about it. It was difficult to explain to people how it had been more of a giving in than an explosion. They always wanted more, wanted him to explain it for them and not for himself. He wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Sirius didn't seem to want him to make up stories to make it more or less than it was. 

"Do you ever think about trying it again?" 

And that wasn't the question Remus expected at all. For the first time in his life the stock “no” he always gave didn't tumble out automatically. 

"Who doesn't, at least once in a while?" Remus shrugged, not willing to look Sirius in the eye, but rather focusing on the blankets wadded up in his lap. 

"But right now?” Sirius pressed on gently.

Remus sighed. "No, not right now." It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't quite a lie, either. He wasn't sure how to explain to Sirius that the voice that told him it was an option was always there. It didn't suddenly disappear, and it had nothing to do with whether he was happy or not. It was simply more difficult to ignore sometimes. So when he said not right now he meant more that he could easily pretend he didn't hear the thoughts that were floating through the subspace in his brain. That they weren't insistent, persistent, consuming. They could get that way again, with no warning. But right at this moment, no, he was fine. 

"Thank you," Sirius whispered, and Remus didn't even pretend to not understand. Just risked leaning over and gently resting his head on Sirius' shoulder and breathing a little easier when Sirius wrapped an arm around him in return. 

***** 

_Winter had come and gone and Owen had become accustomed to the solitude. He had always been extremely restless, and if someone had told him all those months ago that he would be happy with the simplicity that his life had become he would have laughed. Now he felt a little sorry for the him he used to be. He never expected this sort of contentment from his life, not the least of which was helped by waking up curled around Avery every morning._

_At the sound of footsteps behind him he turned around slowly, smiling and expecting to see Avery, coming to join him to watch the last vestiges of the sunrise fade from the sky over the edge of the gorge. Instead, he startled at the sight of a complete stranger aiming a crossbow at him._

_"Can I help you?" he asked slowly, making sure his hands were visible so he wouldn't startle a shot out of the taller man._

_There was no response, and the crossbow never wavered._

_Owen took a moment to study the man currently staring him down. He had long dark hair peppered with grey, tied in a tight tail at the nape of his neck, where a scar ran from just behind his ear down until it vanished beneath his fitted shirt. His pale eyes were cold and focused and they made Owen shiver if he looked for too long._

_"Who are you?" he asked quietly, taking an involuntary step backwards._

_Still no answer, but the crossbow twitched slightly as if saying to stay where he was. Owen froze._

_That's when Avery found him, walking into the clearing and pulling up short at the scene he found._

_"Owen?" he asked very slowly, voice low and much steadier than Owen could have managed._

_"I don't know."_

_Avery walked with excruciating precision into the clearing to stand next to Owen, who immediately slid an arm around his waist and tried not to seem like he was clinging. He had some suspicions about what was going on, but he wasn't about to voice them with a crossbow pointed at them. He tried very hard not to think about Avery's friend strung up from a tree._

_"I'm not sure which one of you is unclean, so I will have to dispose of you both." The voice was soft and smooth to the point of mellifluous, which startled Owen, although he wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if mercenaries came with a specific vocal type._

_It happened so subtly that Owen almost missed Avery slowly inching in front of him, putting himself between Owen and the point of the crossbow bolt._

_"Don't," he whispered, his hand settling on the small of Avery's back, trying to tug him back again. "Please."_

_"It's all right." Avery threw a small, tight smile over his shoulder. "I was expecting this eventually."_

_"That doesn't mean it's all right," Owen said softly, unable to keep the pleading out of his voice._

_Icy blue eyes flicked rapidly between the two of them, but that was the only movement out of the mercenary. Then, almost imperceptibly, the crossbow aimed a little more solidly at Avery._

_"Avery," Owen hissed, eyeing the glint off the tip of the arrowhead._

_Rather than answer Avery squared his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly. "Leave him out of this." His voice was firm as it reverberated around the glade, their glade, no longer the sanctuary it had been. Terrified that it never would be again, Owen nearly stopped breathing._

_Avery carefully walked forwards, facing his own death calmly, and Owen knew he was doing it to draw the aim away from where he was still rooted to the spot._

_"I can't do that."_

_The smile that Avery flashed, a mere baring of teeth that was more feral than anything, made him look wild and beautiful and Owen had a sudden flash of clarity that he was about to lose the person that held his heart. The person who probably didn't even realized he had given it away._

_"I know." Avery was suddenly a blur of motion and before Owen had the chance to even gasp out the sharp cry that was choking him, bubbling up his throat and clinging to the back of his tongue, both Avery and the mercenary were over the edge of the gorge._

When Remus looked up Dumbledore was leaning in the doorway of his cubicle, his blue eyes twinkling. Sometimes Remus wondered if he was just having a grand time laughing at all the rest of them, if he had some insight into the enjoyment of life that the rest of them were missing. 

He started the conversation with, “I’m sorry to say I have another Lockhart for you.” When Remus just groaned Dumbledore chuckled. “I’ll e-mail it to you in the morning.”

“Of course,” Remus mumbled, trying not to sound too disappointed with the prospect of yet another self-indulgent attempt at magical realism staring the author himself as the protagonist. The fact that the first one had sold at all had more to do with Lockhart’s overly bleached smile on the cover than the actual writing. At least, Remus liked to believe that writing that abysmal wasn’t selling on its own merit.

“I would give it to Peter, but he’s not finished with that historical romance he was working on.”

Remus nodded, watching Dumbledore polish his glasses on the sleeve of his purple jumper, the little ghosts across the front in honor of Halloween approaching quickly. “Those do take a fair bit of extra research and fact checking. It’s all right.” He grimaced. “Even if I do think that Lockhart should find himself a career in toothpaste adverts and leave the writing to people who know how to use a comma.” Feeling his cheeks heat up, Remus ducked his head, but Dumbledore just laughed.

Papers fluttered about on his desk as he gathered his things together, and powered down his computer. Dumbledore still stood just inside his cubical, so Remus paused, frowning.

“I just wanted to know if you were all right,” Dumbledore said quietly, still smiling. “You’re work has improved, and you certainly seem livelier than you did a few months ago, but I can’t help feeling that you’re still having a hard time of it.”

The snort escaped before Remus could stop himself. “I think that’s always going to be the case, sir. But it hasn’t actually been bad in a while now, thank you.”

If Dumbledore didn’t appear totally satisfied with that answer he didn’t press, either, just let Remus finish gathering up his things.

“Oh, and sir. I’ll have that extra manuscript you asked me to look at for you by the end of the week. I’m sorry it took so long but it was,” he paused for a moment, trying to decide how best to explain. “Worth being thorough with.”

A bright smile and a nod later and Dumbledore disappeared back into his own office leaving Remus wondering, not for the first time, if his boss was completely sane.

He didn’t make it very far towards the door when Peter stopped him by calling out over the edge of his cubical. “On your way to see James or Sirius?” he asked with a grin.

Remus smiled and stopped, picking up a pen from the floor where it had rolled when Peter dropped it in favor of spinning around in his chair. Tossing it at Peter’s head he readjusted his bag on his shoulder. “James first, then hopefully Sirius.”

"Hopefully?"

"Well, I've been busy lately, and I assume he has, too, since I haven't heard from him this week."

Peter shrugged, still smiling. "He does that sometimes, when something gets his attention. James and I didn't hear from him for over a month when he decided to restore that bike of his. I'm not sure he remembered to eat. I wouldn't worry about it."

"I wasn't worried," Remus lied, trying to remind himself that not everyone was like Killian, and that there really was a reasonable explanation. It wasn't that Sirius was tired of him, or trying to avoid him.

“Good. Oh, would you mind asking James if I can move my appointment from 4:00 to 4:30? I really want to be finished with this chapter when I talk to him later.”

Remus, who hadn’t been aware that Peter was seeing James in a professional manner, nodded. “Of course.”

Peter shrugged as if it were no big deal at all. “Reading about Revolutionary War traitors left me having nightmares about getting all my friends killed. Talking to James helps, even if it is awkward sharing with one of my best friends."

“You know,” Remus laughed. “I’ve started getting that feeling myself, lately.”

Peter grinned, doodling on the edge of a sticky note. “Anyway, just see if he’ll give me an extra half an hour. Hell, just have Sirius distract him, he won’t realize I’m late until I’m there.” 

“I think I could probably manage that, actually.”

“I’m sure you could. Sirius is rather attached to you. Surprised us all, actually. I’m not sure any of his attempts at dating have ever lasted more than a couple of dates. This is entirely new for him. I’m happy for both of you.”

Remus went cold. _Does that mean he’ll get sick of me, soon, too?_ “Thanks, Pete,” he said tightly, hoping the strain didn’t sound as obvious to Peter as it did to his own ears.

“See you next week, Remus.”

With a brief nod Remus found himself outside and in his car without remembering his feet moving. Autumn was having a hard time settling in this year, so he cracked open his window slightly for some fresh air. There was no need to panic. It wasn’t as if Sirius had shown any signs of wanting things to change.

He spent the entire drive over to James’ office talking himself down, not paying any attention to the drive. When he parked the car he had to take a moment to look around, because he didn’t actually remember much of the drive, entire blocks missing from his mind, replaced with panicked thoughts of being alone again.

The front door was propped open in the remnants of summer heat that were still clinging to the trees, drifting up from the grass, and coloring the sky bright despite the rain threatening. He let himself into the building, stopping just inside the lobby. 

The door to the back room was closed which was a bit of a relief. He had been sure he was going to be late. Tugging absently at the sleeves of his lightweight linen shirt, Remus gave thought to the comfortable sofa, but decided against it. His skin felt too tight and his head wouldn’t still long enough for him to sit. There was a not insignificant part of him that had been hoping to see Sirius’ motorcycle parked outside when he had pulled up. They hadn’t actually said anything about meeting at James’, so he wasn’t disappointed, but he certainly would have appreciated a hug just about then. 

He was pacing, trying to settle his brain a little when he realized that there were voices coming from inside the back room, and he recognized the second one as Sirius, despite the lack of a motorcycle. Staying to the far side of the room Remus tried not to want to pry. If Sirius wanted him to know why he was there he would tell him.

Despite his best efforts, however, he still sort of ended up eavesdropping. Sirius was loud when he got worked up, and unless he physically plugged his ears Remus couldn’t help but hear.

“Five months is a long time, James.” Well, at least that explained why he didn’t know Sirius was going to be there. If he was there to talk about Remus he wouldn’t have told Remus that. There was a brief moment of panic that Sirius was actually talking to James in a professional capacity about him, that he was so much effort to be with that Sirius needed help.

Leaning against the wall, letting the chill of plaster seep into his skin, and taking a couple of deep breaths Remus reminded himself that they were best friends, and that Sirius wasn’t the type to hide things like that from Remus. He was probably just talking to James and somehow the conversation shifted to Remus. It didn’t have to mean anything. It probably didn’t mean anything.

Whatever James might have responded with was lost in the tumult of Remus’ panicked thoughts. Either that or James was just more aware of his volume than Sirius was.

“I know what I said, but this might end up horribly.”

There was no way that Remus could think of where that sentence didn’t bode poorly for him. He wanted to creep closer to the door. To hear both sides of the conversation. He wanted to burst through the door and demand an explanation from Sirius. He wanted to turn around and flee and pretend he had never been there at all.

“I just can’t think of a good way to bring it up, James. It’s not like this is an easy conversation to have.” Sirius sounded almost panicked, something Remus had never heard before. 

Now he knew he didn’t want to hear any more. That was already more than he could handle. It couldn’t be a good sign that Sirius was getting all worked up, in hiding with James, rather than talking to Remus. He was probably telling James that he wanted to call it off, that Peter had been right and five months was longer than he had meant to stick it out, that he was bored, that Remus was too much work and not enough fun, that Remus just wasn’t enough for him.

The very real fear that this was going to turn out exactly like Killian was choking. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t heard from Sirius lately, and not that he got caught up in some project or another like Peter had assumed. His hands were shaking as he very slowly dug a piece of paper out of his bag along with a pen. 

*****

_Owen swung the axe, striking a tinny thud as the firewood split cleanly. This time last year the thought of having to set in a store of firewood alone would have sent him into a panic, but now it just left him a little lonely, standing shirtless in the glade chopping wood until he was dripping with sweat, despite the lingering chill._

_Another winter had passed and no one else had come to the little cabin. It had been a quiet year full of more work than he could have ever anticipated, trying to do it all alone. How Avery had survived all those years alone he simply couldn’t understand._

_It took nearly an hour to stack all the firewood by the door, but it looked like it would be enough to last through the rest of the cold weather, unless winter lingered well into spring._

_There was a light snow falling by the time he finished, and when he pushed open the door with a shoulder, bringing the last armful inside with him, there was a coating across his still bare shoulders and in his hair._

_“You’re going to freeze to death, and then where would I be?” Came a slightly frazzled voice from the corner, buried beneath a pile of blankets on their shared bed._

_Depositing the rough logs on the hearth Owen dusted himself off and sank down onto the warn mattress, tucking his nose against the side of Avery’s neck, making Avery flinch before letting him under the covers to warm up._

_“You know I’m never letting anything else happen to you again, right?” Owen asked, lips brushing against Avery’s skin as he spoke._

_“It wasn’t exactly your fault the first time,” Avery huffed, curling into Owen as best as he could._

_“If I had known you were planning on throwing yourself off a cliff I never would have let go of you.”_

_“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Avery growled, tightening his grip._

_Owen flinched. It wasn’t the first time they had had this argument. Avery was insistent that there had been no other way, but Owen couldn’t forget the panic that had settled in his chest when his lover had gone flying off into thin air. He hadn’t been able to breathe as he picked his way down the small deer path expecting to find Avery’s broken body. In the last year he still hadn’t been able to express the relief he felt when Avery had been still breathing, even if it was barely. He had carried Avery slowly back up to their little cabin and spent the next few weeks tending to him as he healed. His left leg never fully had, however, and most days it was too much effort for him even to simply stand. Owen didn’t mind so long as he was still alive. Avery didn’t always see it that way._

_Finally Owen just sighed, easing himself out of the bed and fixing two plates of supper for something to distract himself until he no longer wanted to shake Avery. The plate shook a little as he handed it over and Avery frowned at him._

_“I don’t know,” Owen said slowly, “why you thought I would be any happier losing you than you would have been to lose me.”_

_Avery blinked slowly, his dark eyes pinched at the corners._

_“If this past year hasn’t convinced you that I love you I don’t know what will,” Owen added, pressing his advantage._

_That made Avery startle, then smile brighter than Owen had seen since the past winter. Maybe he hadn’t been as clear about that as he had thought._

_He leaned in to steal a kiss, nearly spilling their food in the process. “I do, you know. Love you.”_

The sun was setting when Remus heard leaves crunching behind him. He didn’t turn around. His legs were dangling off the edge of the small cliff, the brook had nearly dried up, but there was enough water still creeping along at the bottom to be a soothing noise. It had taken him nearly an hour longer on his own to find this place again, but he had wanted to be here for a while, watching the world disappear into the horizon from the highest vantage point he could find.

No voice came, so it was most likely some stranger who would ignore him, or push him off, either way, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Either that or it was Sirius, even more ready to be rid of him than he assumed. None of those options seemed worth the work of looking.

“What the fuck is this?”

Well, that answered who was behind him.

Sirius flung himself down next to Remus, slightly farther away from the edge, and dropped a piece of paper into his lap. Remus barely glanced down before recognizing the letter he had written and left on the desk by the unused computer in James’ office, along with a fully marked up copy of the manuscript he had spent the last five months carrying everywhere with him.

**Sirius,**

**As incredible as these last months have been I’m starting to feel like you feel that I’m smothering you. That was never my intention, and so I am truly sorry. I would never want to infringe upon your freedom like that.**

**Here is your manuscript back. Although, to be fair, I’m not certain you knew I had it in the first place. Dumbledore wanted me to mark it by hand. I think he was afraid that you would just delete any comments I made digitally, and honestly, I’m not sure his fears were unfounded. I want you to know that it was one of the best things that has come across my desk in years. I could have read it over and over. I almost said something, that day you took me to your glade, but I didn’t want to take away from your moment. And then I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. That seems to be a theme with me. Never knowing how to bring things up.**

**So in the interest of full disclosure, I’m terribly afraid that I’ve fallen in love with you. I realize that that probably wasn’t on the table, so once again, I am sorry. You’ve been everything I could have ever hoped for, and it was really out of my control. However, I can control how it impacts you, and there is no need for you to worry about it. I will no longer continue to impose myself on you. All I want is for you to be happy. So, much like your Avery, who was willing to die to keep Owen safe, I am willing to go away to keep you happy.**

**I am sorry.**

**I love you.**

**Remus**

“It’s a letter, Sirius,” Remus said quietly, tired beyond expression. He still didn’t turn around.

“I know it’s a letter, Remus,” Sirius growled, his voice tight, clipped in a way that Remus had never heard before. “I meant the utter bollocks that is you implying that I want you to go away. When have I ever given you that idea?”

“You haven’t returned any of my calls all week Sirius. This isn’t my first time doing this dance, I remember the steps. I get it. It’s okay.”

The silence was loud enough to hurt and Remus had to fight the urge to bury his head in his arms and cover his ears. This was why he had written a letter. He could be strong enough to leave for Sirius, but he certainly wasn’t ready to have this conversation, to hear, once again, how he wasn’t enough. Instead, he just stared out over the tops of the trees, the grey sheet of the sky getting incrementally darker, the silence getting heavier.

“Remus, please look at me.” Sirius sounded nearly as tired as Remus felt, which was what convinced him to listen, every muscle tensed for the rejection he was sure was coming. When he met Sirius’ eyes they were wary, but not incriminating. “And please come away from the ledge so we can talk.”

“I’m not going to jump, Sirius,” Remus said sadly, not moving.

“I didn’t think you were,” Sirius replied quickly, making Remus startle slightly. “I just want to be able to talk face to face.”

Shifting in slightly, Remus turned around so that he was a few feet away from the edge, and that much closer to Sirius.

“Thank you,” Sirius breathed, his eyes still tight.

Remus shrugged. “Most people would have assumed I wanted to jump,” he muttered, plucking at the edge of his sleeves and not saying how it was enough that Sirius didn’t. That no one had understood so completely, or been so calm in the face of his bad days. That he really wasn't ready to let go of that comfort now that he had it. He didn't continue.

With a shake of his head Sirius put his hand out, fingers just lightly brushing Remus’ arm. “If you were going to jump you would have done it when there was no one here to stop you.”

The urge to lean into Sirius’ touch was overwhelming. Remus wanted nothing more than to curl up in those arms and never move. Chest tight with things he couldn’t say he froze, unsure of quite what to do. There was no way to express what it meant to him that Sirius understood, at least, not without making it a little harder to walk away in the end.

“You said, in the letter, that you love me,” Sirius muttered, frowning. “Why are you trying to leave me?”

Decomposing leaves crumbled beneath Remus’ wandering fingers while he took a couple of deep breaths. His trousers were damp and his neck was stiff. He didn’t move.

“Remus?”

Closing his eyes Remus tucked his knees up under his chin, pretending that his pulse wasn’t drowning out his thoughts. “I heard you telling James about how five months is a long time. Peter said just today how surprised everyone was that you stuck with me for even this long, that you don't do long term. You haven’t called me back all week. I’ve been down this road before, Sirius, and I have no interest in doing it again. It was bad enough the first time, when I didn’t even love Killian any more. With you?” He snorted and opened his eyes, meeting Sirius’ and absently noting that they were the same color as the sky. “I decided it would be better to do it on my own terms.”

He expected denial, expected the hurt on Sirius’ face. The hands shooting out and gripping his wrists surprised him.

"And it never occurred to you that taking _one fucking statement_ completely out of context and deciding that it meant I wanted to be done with you, might _possibly_ be jumping to conclusions? Or could there have been more to that conversation that you _didn't hear?_ " Sirius was breathing heavily, his eyes sparking as his voice pitched louder, not quite yelling, but almost, by the time he was finished. Remus could see the tension in the rigidity of Sirius' shoulders, the way his chin jutted ever so slightly. It made him want to flinch away, to do anything to avoid arguing.

“Oh,” Remus whispered, voice small.

“Yes, oh. And the reason I haven’t called you all week is because I know your lease is up next month and I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you to just move in with me, and I couldn't figure out how to do it without feeling like _I_ was smothering _you._ ”

There was a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choked off sob and it took Remus a moment to realize that he had made it. His fingernails were digging into his palms and he couldn’t figure out where to look, so he settled on looking helplessly at Sirius wondering if he had fucked everything up.

Sirius seemed to deflate and he tugged on Remus where he was still holding his wrists. Remus went willingly, letting himself be gathered up and tucked in under Sirius’ chin listening to his heartbeat.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout, even I'm not daft enough to think that's productive." Sirius carded his fingers through Remus's hair, and Remus was ready to do anything rather than risk losing this. 

"I know that you have bad days, Remus," Sirius continued. "I’m even not so full of myself to think that I can fix that.” He snorted and tightened his arms as if he was afraid Remus would try and leave. “But what I really want is for you to talk to me instead of assuming things. Instead of leaving fucking _letters_ and scaring me half to death.”

Frowning, Remus burrowed into Sirius who sort of seemed as though he was clinging a little, which was far more reassuring than any words could have been.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled into Sirius’ chest.

“You reference Avery throwing himself off a cliff and then disappear and I wasn’t supposed to be scared?” Sirius slid his fingers under the edges of Remus’ shirt, warm skin against his back. "And when we have this all settled, and I'm not having a heart attack that I'm going to lose you, we're going to talk about how you've been reading my manuscript this entire time and you never once let on."

"Honestly, I didn't realize it was yours until you brought me out here the first time and I recognized this place, but I didn't know how to bring it up. It felt so much more personal after I knew, and I just..." he trailed off and let out a hopeless laugh. "I'm not good at this, Sirius. I think today proves that." He paused and thought back to the first part of Sirius' complain. He hadn't really thought about his letter being taken like that at all. "And you should have just called, if you were that worried," he added, slightly embarrassed.

“I did. Four times. And then I let myself into your flat before I thought about checking here.”

“You broke in again?”

“I needed to know if you were okay.”

A quick shake of his head and Remus pulled back just far enough to see Sirius’ face. “You know, I had a key made for you months ago so you wouldn’t get arrested for breaking in, but there never seemed to be time to give it to you.” He left the _and I wasn't sure you'd want it_ unsaid. It seemed foolish now, in the face of Sirius' very real concern for him.

Sirius went very still. “You made me a key?”

“Yes?” It wasn’t meant to sound quite as much like a question as it did, but Remus was too surprised by the look that Sirius was leveling at him to correct himself, or even care.

“Please move in with me.”

“Even after I nearly bollocksed it all up?”

“I miss waking up next to you when you go home. I love your grumpy, fuzzy, half-awake stumblings in the morning. I like making you tea while you make the toast. I miss tripping over your jumpers because you are incapable of hanging them up when you take them off. Do I think we won’t fuck it up? If today is anything to go by, we definitely will. And then we’ll talk. And the make-up sex will be spectacular.” Sirius grinned, but Remus saw the tightness at the corners of his eyes, the way his mouth pinched ever so slightly.

He slipped his fingers into the hair at the nape of Sirius’ neck and tugged ever so slightly, watching as Sirius’ eyes glazed over. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Remus couldn’t stop the faint grin that was creeping up. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Just like that?”

“Did you really think I would say no? I love you, daft git.” Remus kissed him gently, feeling the last of the tension drain from his shoulders when Sirius melted into him. “Besides, I miss the smell of petrol on my sheets.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Are you sure?”

“You really want me there?” Sirius nodded. “Then I am absolutely sure.”

"And we are going over every single comment you made on my manuscript together, just so you're aware."

"Will you tell me how much of Owen's back story is your own?" Remus asked nervously.

This time there was a long pause, but Sirius finally shifted, tucking Remus against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. "I think if you managed to trust me with your scars, I can tell you that, yeah."

"Thank you." Remus turned back to watching the color drain from the world as the sun continued to sink. "Maybe we can do it from the comfort of a nice soft bed. I seem to remember difficult conversations going better that way."

"I think we may get distracted if we try that," Sirius said, nuzzling into Remus’ hair.

"That was kind of the idea."

Sirius tightened his arms. "I didn't say earlier, but I love you too, you know."

"It might take me a while I believe I deserve that."

"Then I'll just have to keep reminding you."

"I think I can handle that," Remus smiled, and leaned back just a little into Sirius, neither of them moving as the light finally vanished from the sky.


End file.
